I wake up from a nightmare every night at around 1.30am. The TV is screaming, it's an infomercial. The bed next to me is empty. I reach behind me by the light of the TV, but the air feels different, I know instantly, instinctively, that he's gone. I switch off the TV and turn on my bed-side lamp. I curl up with my book until I've shaken off whatever woke me. When the alarm goes off at seven, he's always back in place. Innocent sleeping, baby-face. My living room has strange things in it. Stolen things. As soon as the pawn shop opens, he's through the door. Some things he can be on time for. It makes my skin crawl. "Don't you feel like an asshole?" I ask him. He shakes his head, entitled. Or gets angry, and starts crying. There's always some justification in his mind. I'm worried. I don't like having stolen things in my little home. I realize he will probably try to do the same thing to me when he moves out. Come in during the day, take the things I won't notice, or if he's desperate, take the things I will notice. I'm not sure how to make myself safe. I know he can break in, he's done it tons of times when he forgets the key. He can't empathise, he thinks I earn too much, thinks I have it easy. It would be so nice to wake up and find out this was just a bad dream too.