Coming home.

I waited up for you.

You weren’t late. I just felt like I should.

What if one day you choose not to come home. On the long bike ride home you meet a new girl and you follow her home.

I am waiting up for you to slip up.

Because if you come home really late. Drunk. Smelling like another woman then I can pick a fight. And maybe in the end there won’t be a reason to worry anymore.

But you walk in the door. You bring me snap peas and kisses.

Tonight you come home.