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And waking up, it had been ok. the cats she didn't want awoke her twice - once at 3am and once at 6am. Whatever, she had no boundaries and would give them what they wanted to shut them up.
She was no mother.
ouch.
She kept the memento of Leon's mother next to her writing computer. It stabbed her whenever she needed it - a plexiglass pressed daisy she had made because she didn't know how to receive the gift otherwise.
fuck.
She was alone-er this morning. Yesterday, she hadn't even had to fend off any protestations when she said to him, "I love fucking you, but this is future-less. You have to know that. We have no future together."
He had taken it. She had been so bright and begging for her due of touch before. He had hungered for her, and making him bow to her with his dick satisfied her immensely... until she woke up.
Then, she was a greedy whore. She thought maybe she had wanted him to have begged, to have protested, to have done what she would have done.
As Jeanette taught her so well, "what is the measure of love but loss."
He was a gent about it. It was in character. They chatted. They fucked. they ate greek food. He was bearing it all. She actually felt annoyed later that he left at eight and didn't invite her to pool. She wouldn't have gone of course, but she might have.
Narcissi was untethered again.
She went to pee and saw the flowers the man she never named gave her laying beautifully decomposing in the grass outside her window. She was restless and felt unmoored without the press of que faire to her original post-divorce homme.
He would be fine. They would all be fine. She wasn't wrong in poking his fantasy. He probably should be relieved.
ouch.
The geraniums were fucking pink and full and vibrant and really made it seem like she loved this fucking house. the grass was half cut. the peace lily was dying again.
Life was emptier.
she had emptied it.
it made her cry again.
she had already cried after the cats - the fucking cats - had settled and she was looking at her phone trying to shark forward and came across a
dagger: the photo of her feet at the beach on august 29th of last year
when she had hope and was an afternoon away from being day drunk on Pina coladas with someone who she thought had been the canary she ate
and oh god
it hurt again.
like she wanted it to.
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