When it feels like this, talking to him is raccooning after the scraps. Scouring for something to say to you so the ecosystem we have built of gnawed bones, apple cores, and littered wrappers like one word answers carries on tonight. When it feels like this, like scavenging animals searching for substance in the dimly lit streets - even as it screams rotten on the tongue - it makes her question when she started to pretend she couldn’t taste the difference.