Anyta
He had been drinking. He had spent the day at work in meetings. His body tired out. He was not as strong as he seemed. Deep creases now lined his face since we had last lived together in a house. I watched him breathe. Each breath became slower. His eyelids began to droop. His hands dangled at his side. He let out a deep breath and sucked in the air, and his breath became slower still.
It was not drugs. It was not lying with medicine. It was the weariness of a man who had followed his own heart and found only his own face. He slept in my arms, understandably and quietly. He slept soundly like a child after work all day.
My chest hurt so badly I was unable to breathe. The shame pressed against my ribcage. I recalled Teddy and how he might be in some cold room somewhere. I recalled
