I gave him the keys to my house. He didn't know I rarely gave them to anyone. Much less the key to every single door.
I let him sit on my favorite couch. The one that's by that lamp, the one on which I have my tea while reading a book every rainy afternoon. He said it was too soft.
I showed him my broken window. The one that makes that funny quirky sound. He said I should get it fixed.
I told him, let's lay on the rug. Yes, that white one that's softer than the touch of a feather. On a rainy day, he came in with his wet boots and stained it with mud.
I kept letting him in, until one day, I had to take the keys away.
He didn't understand that these weren't just objects in my house. The couch was meant to embrace him and make him feel safe from the rain. The quirky window.. supposed to make him laugh, and the soft rug was there to caress him.
Now I sit alone in my house, reading on a rainy day.