You made your way in and I made way for you. It was subtle. Almost unnoticeable. But you settled there, making it your home. I forgot that you weren’t meant to be here and I lived around you and made room, concessions and exceptions for you. Over time, I even considered you in my plans and regarded you in my actions. Like a foreign object left in my body for too long; cell by cell, epithelial by epithelial, I grew around you and you became a part of me. Tethered to me. I forgot that you and I weren’t meant to cohabit; that I wasn’t meant to live with you.