First time

He has is boots on. Pointed toward the door. Has his jacket on. Both sleeves, unzipped. She stands, her back against the tiny closet in the tiny foyer of her one bedroom, two story walkup. He is leaving. It is late and he is leaving. There are voices in the hall. Laughter. A door somewhere nearby opens then shuts. Silence. Bye he says. Bye she says. He kisses her. And kisses her again. One, two on her neck. Her cheek. Then lips once more. He has boots on. It’s late. And he is leaving. Only he doesn’t. Because he can’t. Not now. He smiles. What? She asks. I have to tell you something, he says. He tells her. And she him. He takes off his jacket, both sleeves. His boots are off. Pointed away from the door. It’s late. It’s late and he isn’t leaving.