writing

I hadn’t slept. At all. My body ached, my head swam and that lingering nausea in my stomach threatened to overpower me. I’d drunk too much last night, trying in vain to drown my frustration in a vat of gin.  I’d never done hard drugs and wasn’t usually one to get drunk easily but this

It had begun to snow in the night and by the time I was taking Bobby to nursery several inches of white covered the ground. I’d hated winter as much as the next adult did. There is this threshold you cross when it’s not Christmas and snow ball fights anymore, but cold and dreary, and

“God Jul,“ he mumbled, bent down and kissed my cheek. “Merry Christmas,“ I felt myself blush and then gape when he handed me a squashed parcel wrapped in red wrapping paper with a white reindeer pattern. “You- you got me a present?“ He gave me a sheepish look and rubbed his massive hand over his

I had only gotten up to pee. Pee then go back to bed and forget about today between the cool sheets of my bed.  On my way back from the bathroom I’d passed by the living room and something had felt… off. I clearly hadn’t learned anything from any horror movie I had ever seen,

Tristan built us a pillow fort in the back of his truck. It’s a cute idea but lying here with him isn’t as much fun as I thought it’d be. It’s not that I don’t enjoy him close. He makes me giddy but in the best possible way.  They say we are but made of

It sits there. Unopened.  Drawing my eyes like a flayed corpse he left lying in my fucking living room. I don’t want his present, nor presence in my life anymore but he doesn’t understand. Doesn’t want to? Doesn’t care to? I shouldn’t care about the difference, but I do.  Told him as much, too. He