This Is Why I Don't Socialize

After spending the afternoon cleaning up the house, I fall onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Jake comes out of the bathroom, drying his hands on his pants. He sits down next to me, yawning.

“That was not fun,” he states simply, rubbing his eyes. I hum in agreement, my eyes trained on the clean coffee table. My eyes are teary from the dust and I wipe the tears from my eyes. I wonder when Allison’s mother will wake up. She has not moved since Jake put her on the bed. I glance over my shoulder to the room, waiting for movement. I want to go home but do not want to leave her alone. It feels wrong.

“I should probably take the bags to the dumping site. Are you staying here?” Jake asks as he stands up. He stretches his back and a few cracking sounds escape.

“I will come with you. Let me just leave my number for when she wakes up.” I also get up and walk to the kitchen. I search through the drawers for the pen I saw earlier. I find the pen and write my number on one of the napkins from ano