She wonders if she left the light on

in the bathroom at the end of the hall,

or if she remembered to start the dishwasher

on a four hour delay,

to dutifully clean while the world is asleep

and be ready and done the following day.

She wonders if she remembered

to set the alarm on her clock and her house.

She wonders if she latched the chain,

spun the lock, wonders what would have happened

had she not checked

when she heard the knock.

Her jewelry is in the bank now,

passport, SSN, the works:

safety deposit box 113.

She glances at the gun on her nightstand.

She wonders if it's enough.