After Garbi left, I stayed on the porch, drinking wine and washing my heart down with every gulp. I stared into the shadows, wondering how I’d allowed myself to fall so hard.
“You’ve fallen in lust,” I said.
But having gorged at the lust banquet, I knew better. The hurt in my heart knew better. I stayed on the porch with the wine bottle until the sky turned dark and the night birds cried.
My bed offered some relief, and I won’t admit I cried. It didn’t happen; I only dreamed I cried and ignored the wet spot on my pillowcase the next morning.
Fuck sunlight. Really and truly f**k it, especially when you really want the day to be miserable and cloudy. I drew the sheets over my head until birds fighting noisily outside my window forced me out of bed.
Downstairs, I brewed sludge-dark coffe
