A bed. Queen size. Blankets and sheets. Two pillows. Headboard made of wood. Shaker style. His father built it.

She slept there during the day. Alone. Didn’t even eat. Just slept. A bottle of whiskey was in a cedar chest at the end of the bed, along with sweaters and winter clothes. She thought she was fooling him.

In the evening, when he came home, no supper was made. He’d heat up a TV dinner in the microwave. Sat and watched Jeopardy in silence. Eventually, she’d come down the hall to use the bathroom. She never said hello or how was your day. Didn’t ask about work. She just took a quick drink and went back to bed; wrapping herself in blankets her mom had sewn.

And he just sat in an easy chair all night with the television down low. Falling asleep around midnight. Dreaming in color. The two of them. Sleeping in separate rooms. Alone under one roof.