Inexplicable

Leaning against the bathroom counter I watch Brendan having his bath— he transforms to a slick-wet seal, laughing. His three year old body glistens with soapy water. Behind him, Ricky sits, covered in suds and small felt toys. He laughs also, pouring pitchers of water down Brendan’s sleek back, pouring off bubbles and foam and grit from outside playtime. I stand, leaning, feeling an inexplicable loss.

•42/ Moonless night.
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