Isobel and Emile by Alan Reed

the coils.
    She writes letters in the notebook. She takes it out from under the bed. She takes the blanket off the bed. She wraps the blanket around her body. She sits down on the bed.
    She opens the notebook. The paper in it is yellow. It is thin and flimsy. It has blue lines on it. She reads what she wrote before.
    She pulls her hands through her hair. She writes. She is tired. She writes until she is too tired to write anymore.
    She closes the notebook. She tucks the pencil into the coils. She puts it back under the bed. It is where it was before.
    There are envelopes beside the notebook. There are letters in the envelopes. They are ready to be sent. They have not been sent. Isobel does not want to send them.
    She does not know why.
    The blanket is still wrapped around her body. She pulls it closer to her. She lies down on the bed. She rubs at her eyes. She is tired. She does not want to be tired. She does not want to sleep.
    She does not want to dream again.
    It is not as dark as it was. The night is almost over.
    Isobel goes to sleep.
    There is light coming in through the window. It is not the light that was coming in from the alley. It is sunlight. It is morning.
    Isobel sits up in the bed. She rubs at her face. She is awake. She does not feel awake. She is tired.
    She pushes the blanket off her body. Under the blanket she is naked. Her skin is still clammy. She does not care that she is naked. She is too tired.
    Oskar will be here soon. He will have his truck. There will be crates to unload.
    There is sunlight coming into the room.
    She pulls her hands through her hair. Her hair is tangled. It is matted with sweat. She pulls her hands through her hair until it is less tangled.
    She sits up in the bed. She swings her legs out of the bed. She is sitting so that she is on the edge of the bed.
    It is still cold. She wraps her arms around her body. There are goosebumps on her skin.
    There is a sink on the wall. There is a towel hanging next to the sink and there is a curtain over the window. They are flimsy and dirty. Her clothes and her shoes are on the floor.
    She stands up. She walks over to the sink. She does not walk steadily. Her body is groggy. She does not sleep well. She is still tired.
    She is standing in front of the sink. She turns the water on.
    She waits until the water fills the sink. She turns the water off. She washes her face. She washes under her arms and between her legs. She dries herself.
    She dries herself with the towel. She stands in front of the sink. She looks at herself in the mirror over the sink.
    She is tired. It does not matter that she just slept. Her skin is sallow.
    She scowls.
    Her dress is on the floor. She goes over to where it is. She picks it up off the floor. It was a nice dress. It has frills around the neck. It is dirty and wrinkled. She does not care. She puts it on. She goes to the door. She goes out of the room. She goes down the stairs. She is in the room at the back of the grocery store.
    She is tired of this. She does not know what to do. She will do something. She does not know what she can do.
    She sits down on a crate. She waits for Mr. Koch to come. He will make coffee. He will sit down on a crate. He will give Isobel a cup of coffee.
    She picks at her fingernails. She waits.
    She is tired of waiting.

Dear Emile,
    I am sitting on your bed. I’m the only one who still calls it your bed. You’re gone, Emile. What we did is the only reason anyone even remembers you were here. And I am the one who lives here now.
    I hate it.
    I hate that they say this is my bed.
    I’m sitting here, in your room. It’s late. I’m tired. I’m always tired now. And I hurt. I’m not used to this, to any of this. My clothes are dirty. I smell. I try to wash myself in the sink and I still smell. I am so tired of this, and all I have to remind myself that there is anything more is a cigarette butt.
    The woman at the station dropped it on the platform. It was just after