He ate his gummy bears one at a time. He lined them up in a column on their bellies like ants marching on a flat plate of white porcelain, being careful not to eat the same color twice. Finally, with only two red gummy bears left, he stopped to save them for his daughter.

It would take a while for her to return home. Meanwhile, he was busy watching a French game show where contestants answer tricky math questions in a limited amount of time. He likes to write down the answers’ sequence–how many times the answer will be A, C, or all of the above. He already knows that the show repeats itself every three episodes so he knows better than to choose B, which seems to be what everybody picks when they are stuck in between. His daughter doesn’t like this show; she watches a reality show about superheroes, instead. The bears are still waiting.

Waiting, he folds his new sweatpants which arrived in the mail only yesterday, then goes to his computer. He scans the web for hours, scoring deals on everything from tampons to exotic jerky. He collects a package every night at 7 PM and leaves a bowl of whole milk behind, hoping the stray cats will visit. Then, he starts cooking. His daughter is always hungry after she returns and he knows exactly what she likes. With food waiting on the table, he goes to change her sheets. Today is Tuesday, floral sheets day.

The food awaits her on the table while Remi cleans the house. He loves the scent of the lice shampoo he had bought for his daughter. She used it once and it worked. She couldn’t stand the smell, so he decided to clean the floor with it. He believes while it has a good scent, it also repels insects. He hates cockroaches; the very thought of their sticky antennae makes him cringe. At night, he sees them peering out of the little gap between his bedroom door and the floor. While the furniture stretches and talks, he pulls out an opened peanut butter snack from underneath his pillow. He likes it better when it isn’t fresh. The humidity gives it a rubbery texture like his favorite gummy bears. The chewing sound makes him forget about the cockroaches’ antennae and all of the other noises. On nights when it doesn’t help, he goes to his daughter’s room and sleeps with her in her single bed. He brings a pillow of his own.

Tonight is different. Although he can’t fall asleep, this time it isn’t a curious cockroach, but a group of kids on the street smashing bottles. Surprisingly, the shattering glass doesn’t hurt their ears. He is worried about the cats. He walks by his daughter’s room and hears the sound of stretching rubber. It has been a while since he felt they shared anything in common. He can hear his heartbeat. With a dry mouth and a pillow in his hand, he opens the door to find her with a boy he had never seen before.

Door ajar, he stands still, gazing upon the two. He doesn’t say a word. Neither does she. The stranger hides deep under the blanket and throws a degrading sigh into the air. Clung tightly to his pillow, Remi turns and walks away. He deliberately leaves the door open. He wants the awful smell to evaporate. He glances into his room, which feels haunted tonight, and senses the tiny footsteps underneath his bed. Tomorrow, he will mop the floor again, but right now he needs a solution to get through the night. He decides to sleep in the living room, although he hates sleeping by the front door. He tries to cover himself without letting the blanket touch the floor. A few minutes later he notices the boy, sneaking out the front door. He is wearing a black hoodie with the hood up, like a thief. When the boy finally leaves his daughter arrives.

She sits down next to him and holds him tight. The smell of her perfume is masked by the boy’s cheap cologne. He can’t stand it so he looks away. “Why don’t you go take a shower?” he asks. Instead, she takes the last red gummy bear from the table and says that it’s too late.