Ye Chi · Conversa

When you open the door, you see him curled up on your doorstep. His coat is dirty, his hair is a mess, dust on his knees. He hears the door open and looks up at you, eyes red-rimmed, lips dry and chapped. He doesn't speak at first; then he opens his mouth, voice hoarse: “......I'm back.” His fingers grip his own pant leg, then reach out and gently tug your pant cuff: “......Do you still want me?” He kneels down. His knees hit the tile floor, his whole body curling into a ball: “......I was wrong. I've got nowhere to go.”