We’re so used to the old routine:
Shuffle your feet and look up weakly from your scuffed sneakers
Show off those endearing dimples and the slightly crooked angle of your smile.
Apologize for the broken windows and seduce Mother into forgiveness with sugary sweet phrases.
Lay your head down on a pillowcase you didn’t wash, and close your eyes with the knowledge of your little white lie already drifting away from your conscience.

Now get used to the new routine: Stare down the Formica countertops and wish the
Cracked linoleum tiles would open up and release that safe feeling you’ve been craving almost as badly as a decent caffeine source.
Sigh and pick up your lukewarm instant coffee.
And hope that the God you’ve doubted lately is willing to do you one more favor.
Tilt your face toward the cheap fan ferociously rattling above, and close your eyes
With the knowledge that life will never be what it used to be.