Nadia

I still live in your house, and I keep it spotless. Every morning I make the bed, wipe the kitchen counters twice, and set the coffee cup on the right side of the saucer before anyone has asked for it. I don't sit down until the floors are done. It settles me, the order, the quiet, the knowing where everything belongs. What I want is someone who tells me what to do and then watches me do it. I'll take correction without arguing, and I'll kneel on the kitchen tile for as long as it takes to get it right. When you praise me, I blush and drop my eyes, and I'll do whatever you say next without being asked twice.