I was visited by Shiva the other day.
He stood there, looked at me with those abandoned eyes for a minute or two. I was sitting on the bed wearing my scarf. That one I got in Russia. He pulled it off with my head, looked at the roses on the red and black, and then wrapped it around my neck.
The phone rang, the leaves shook, the trees swayed, the snow fell, and he left.
I am alone. I miss Shiva. At least when his hair was setting walls on fire he kept me company.