Photo by Judy Linn

Patti and Rob

By: Isabelle Morgan

I haven't been sleeping well; lately has lasted too long this time. My actions are reactions, pooling darkness under my eyes. I was late because I forgot yesterday was happening ahead of today. He’s mad, but I'm too tired; it’s fine, he’d be bored before I made him happy.

I don’t care if she sleeps, but we agreed to meet here an hour ago. Where did she take the fucking shower that still drips off her strands? The shampoo reeks of sex; it's cheap and slightly floral. 

I walked nine blocks, and my hair is still drying; it’s wet. I walked nine blocks from an apartment I don’t remember arriving at, then ended up. I walked nine blocks in clothes that are borrowed, that I’ll never return, grasping a purse that is hollow, empty is the word. Naked has nothing to do with what I am wearing.

I’m not going to cause a scene. She has already made me yell three times; this isn’t on me. I’ll wait and ask where she was on the way home. Fuck if I care what our driver hears; I don’t pay him for his opinion. His business is limited to the wheel and navigation. I buy the gas.

When did I stop caring? I’ve adjusted to the lack of air; my body no longer calls this choking. I just follow his draping arm; he pulls, and I go. How long can I hold and twist my neck this way? Can life and art come from anything other than pain, because I am running out of parts that haven’t given in, gone numb? Love used to be fun.

I smile because it’s lifts my cheeks and she told me they like someone light, emotionally and to carry, she reminds me that if I can pinch an inch, I’m probably too heavy, and my hunger is most likely thirst for clear zero calorie, never dairy, a flatter stomach, and noncombative, so I think before I speak because curiosity can be upsetting, they like pretty not off putting, so sharing becomes a decision, with a default setting of giving nothing at all, which she explains is probably for the best because moving on is easier if your heart was never involved, so I unplaster my smile and crease the line between my eyes, and allow my lips to move in relation to my thinking, it can be unforgiving, but then her teeth flash as she laughs to tell me that ironically most of the time they will leave on their own, and you can’t release someone that was never yours to to hold.