It Happened Again

I don’t know how I came to you, maybe like a ghost, all fuzzy and plucked out of context and ringing your doorbell at 3 in the morning. There you were: a raised eyebrow and an apprehensive mouth telling me it’s snowing. I nodded and told you my feet came to you, which seemed like a valid reason for this accidental ambush. Right, you said, but you were still paused in the doorway wondering if the ghost should be allowed in. It didn’t happen exactly like this, you know. I really never know how these things happen with you, because you always say that it can’t happen again.

But then it happens again.

And then it happens again.

And then it happens again.