It’s in the details
I hadn’t noticed how the room had changed.
Adjusted, readjusted, and moved around…
Put back again, and then again
in the same way that it’d been before.
Only now it was different in the most minuscule of ways.
Like the coffee table smelled slightly more like my hair,
though only from the couch;
up close, there was nothing to be noticed.
And the chair with cushions for your arms and your head,
while still composed of the same general characteristics,
no longer seams as comfortable as it did last night.
Other than these small infractions,
there is no proof of anything, I suppose.