Early Morning

It's 7 am. Nov/9/01.... early morning...

The father of my children is sitting in my kitchen. When I come around the corner, still sleepy from my bed I find him sitting, slightly hunched, just inside the kitchen door, he has on jeans and a light shirt with a jacket. He sits with his knees together and his hands on his thighs, twisting a wet facecloth, I'm thinking, why did you bring a wet face cloth ?, I have face cloths. he starts talking slowly, very slowly ,his voice is very shaky and as I listen to what he's saying, my clothes start to puff. I see his lips moving,what ?. My mind starts screaming ,what are you saying ? My body is puffing , what is happening to my body ?,
Then he stopped talking and I looked at him, and said matter of fact ; noooo, you have the story wrong !, that's not possible !, its not possible !, your mistaken !, it's someone else, you didn't understand what they told you, right,? it was someone else, your confused, you didn't really, you didn't get it right, oh my God , I am desperate for the right answer, just give me the dam right answer.!
But the more I focused on his eyes and his face I knew, then my heart knew, then my soul knew, that the father of my children would never,ever have come to see me, unless he was right.