I Sat on the Bed in My Coat

Dear Delyara, I had just come home and somehow didn’t transition. Bag still on my shoulder. Coat still on. Shoes still on. I sat on the edge of the bed and stayed like that for a few minutes as if the day had paused halfway between outside woman and inside woman and could not decide which one I was expected to be next. That’s what I think exhaustion often looks like now. Not collapse. Failed transition. The house was waiting downstairs. Dinner was still ahead. The evening version of me had not arrived. And there I was, still wearing the day like armour I had not yet been granted permission to remove.