Francesca Bossert

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INTRUDER

Morning sunshine,

Living room

Sitting,

Calmly sorting

My femininely cluttered handbag.

 

Muffled noise,

I stand,

Move to investigate.

 

A strange man in my house.

Nervy, jittery.

 

«Good morning »,

I chirrup,

Spontaneously.

As though expecting him.

 

Maybe I even smile.

 

He mutters something.

Sketchy.

Non-sensical.

Leaves.

 

An icy snake slithers

Down my back.

My mind spins alternative outcomes.

 

Did my greeting keep me safe?