August 4, 2023 - “Soon, I won’t be able to see the sand” by Elizabeth Lerman

Here, he looks me in the eye and says something like, it’s not enough, and every person I’ve ever wanted comes and goes, walking through the whole house like it’s theirs, sleeping in whatever bed they want, and sometimes I hold onto them and sometimes I hide from them, but last night I remember wanting, so badly, for someone to come outside, to see me through the screen off the living room – see me sitting, then pacing, then pleading with the lake, and I stay there for too long, staring at the water until I am certain it is carrying something closer to me, because the shore at the edge of the lawn is shrinking now, and soon, I won’t be able to see the sand. I am still here, waiting for someone to realize I am waiting.