It wasn't good, he wasn't good, he did not have good intentions. I stood there and he stood there. He breathed out the bitter air that makes women doubt everything, and I breathed it in, as I had always done. I expelled my dust, the powder of everything I had destroyed with doubt, and he pulled it into his lungs. My eyes were adjusting and I saw a man, an ordinary man, a stranger. We were staring into each other's eyes, and suddenly I felt furious. Go away, I whispered. Get out. Get out of my house.

~From The Man on the Stairs by Miranda July.