Curtains

I promised her. I will never explain why I open or close the bedroom curtains again. I've written about this before, I am sure. She likes curtains open. She has some kind of thing about it. So do I, I guess. At night, I like them closed. I like the way it looks, nice printed curtains drawn shut, cozy and secure. I am also a private person: I would prefer to watch to being watched. I don't like the glass reflecting darkness back. It must be an animal instinct, at least that's the depth of the emotion. Or is it from that shadow framed, looking in at me through a plate glass window. Is my wife so open? How so? I don't think she is: I think she's full of secrets, just not appearing to be full of secrets. Hmmm. I am going to leave it as I did last night. No more explanations. I like the curtains closed. And if I should change, I don't want to hear the accusation: "Why didn't you close the curtains?" "Because," I'll start to say, "because..."