In the hours between the worst wind and the eye you dream you are coming home to a home you don’t live in, your former lover standing there when you get to the door, or he’s driving now, telling you to be ready for a letter, then you wake up, and it’s a tornado warning, and you fall back asleep again after turning out one more light (but you still sleep on the couch, because there’s windows all around the bed), and then you’re back in the same dream, and you are getting out of a cab and in order to pay you are handing your bills back over your shoulder, back into the cab, and also behind you he’s getting out of another cab right there, back to back, and so you want to make the same gesture. You are in the same house now, in different bathrooms, getting ready for different days, and you hear him ask about something and you answer that it was left there fifteen years ago maybe by your father, and he goes on looking for the thing he was asking for and you check your phone for that letter from the dream before this one and his footsteps are right behind you, and there’s no letter, and there won’t be.