I was burned in an engagement but, he told me to keep the ring. This seems like a better choice. :p
When you get out of bed before me,
leaving the sheets, soft and rumpled, pooled around and beneath the spot where your body lay, I reach a hand out.
I press my palm into the cooling mattress, I gather the soft, white material and press it to my face.
I inhale the scent of you, salty, smelling of the North Sea, the…
By Monday, in my familial orbit, it had been well-established that I'd not only asked for it, I'd fucking begged for it. I'd pleaded for it.
My last, clear, technicolor memory is of Benny leaving Moxie's. I remember he was pestering me about driving me home and that I resisted. My tongue had recently atrophied. I was attempting recovery. I was just too desperately lonely and craving conversation to get in the fucking car.