Watch It

Beloved packed his suitcase with his usually efficiency.  He can pack like no one else I know.  I’m not sure how he even gets all his stuff into the one case, but he does.  Magic I think, even as he explains to me it’s physics or some other such thing.

His carry on bag was already waiting with his tablet and important documents by the door.  The suitcase would be brought down shortly so that in the morning he could just grab both bags and slip out before the sun had managed to fully rise.

Pit routine for both of us, although I’ve come to just let him do my packing too because I lack his magical touch in getting the same amount into the case.  Bags always wait overnight at the door.  Flights typically have us leaving around dawn or under the velvety darkness of midnight.

My neighbor once asked if we were spies, the way we slip in and out of the house.  Sometimes as a couple and sometimes individually.  But spies we are not.  Just ordinary people who divide our time between two households in two different countries.  Ordinary people who travel for work.  Ordinary people with odd hours I guess you might say.

My neighbor said there is nothing ordinary or routine about any of this.  So much so that when Beloved slips out just before dawn and crawls into the awaiting taxi, we have no doubt that our neighbor will be watching.  This departure shall be noted in her notebook as well as his return, if she happens to catch it.  The notebook, in case you are wondering, is a real thing.  I know because she showed it to me, complete with the number of times I had left and come back.

Belved and I have come to the conclusion that her notebook is a wonderful thing.  It is our proof, if anyone ever asks if we were home at a certain time.  It’s a nice thing she is doing, keeping tabs on us.  Once you get passed the creepy factor.


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