Every night I lay in his bed, listening to Sam’s steady breath, the dog arranging and rearranging himself on the dog bed in the corner. I whispered “I love you” to his ceiling fan, a faint whir the only response.
Every night I lay in his bed, listening to Sam’s steady breath, the dog arranging and rearranging himself on the dog bed in the corner. I whispered “I love you” to his ceiling fan, a faint whir the only response.
Later, after, I would denounce him “emotionally unavailable” to others, almost as if it were a joke. It was true, he was, even while he gave freely of anything with a price tag.
The part I couldn’t make a joke about was how ready I was to throw myself away, hoping I could fit into the little life he’d curated.
Why would I do that?
I wondered, but my bones knew the answer.
Beautiful writing.