8
HUDSON
Wednesday night, Mads went to her support group, so I had the house to myself.
Rain poured down outside the house’s windows, similar to the dreariness hanging over our lives for too f*****g long, but I busied myself creating a profile on the poly app while sipping from a cold bottle of beer to keep my brain occupied.
I’d downed three before picking up my phone, and a nice buzz warmed my blood.
Skimming through the questions, I jotted the first thoughts that came to mind. I tended to trust my reactionary instincts when it came to Mads’s and my bed, so there was no point in agonizing over answers.
A quick write-up finished our profile, the focus on my interests being all things wood—tree felling, I explained with a wink emoji—and Mads loving little sweets—baking, of course. No
