Unexpected romance

    I knew better when I saw him knocking, the wheels in his head returning, and I could see the mice behind his eyes. I let him in, and he was nothing but trouble. He sauntered towards me with a look of melting ice slowly sinking into the floor around my feet and into the soles of my shoes. It's the middle of December, so it's no wonder my feet are cold. He went to plant a chaste kiss on my lips, and in a very unladylike fashion, I regarded him with a moan. To put it frankly, we were getting into heavy petting while at my brother's pet store, and then, in a not very romantic slam against what we thought was the wall, we let loose the mice. He smiled deviously and started to help me catch them, saying, "Happy 300-day anniversary." I glared at him. "Very funny."

Tropical island paradise

    It's really hot! What I wouldn't give to have air conditioning again. I hate coconuts! I used to love them; they were my trip to a tropical paradise while casually walking around the mall. But now, all there is to eat are coconuts and fish. I miss a lot of stuff that used to not matter: tap water at 11:30 at night, my cat snuggled in bed next to me, my wedding ring. I look at the sand in between my toes and pretend it's him. He's there, making a home inside me. I start to cry because it's not fair. I start to cry because it's not enough. I pick up the sand with my hands and kiss it, if only that were enough. How my body yearns to feel his touch again, even if only for a moment. I sit in the sand and close my eyes while my hand plunges deep into it. I remember his hands caressing my cheek, and while looking into his eyes, he kisses my lips, leaving my body languid and wanting more.

Copper

    I smelled copper, like the blood I tasted; it lingered in my throat and nose. It was hot—the blood that came from me could've been stacked in piles, like pennies. In some small way, I guess, I was worth something. It's funny how easily he went to sleep, in the hollows of my very bones. My own temperament has been changed by it, but it wasn't warm; it was hot. Blood boiled, almost an unfair anger and irritation with the sun itself. He could've texted me, I thought to myself. He could've valued me enough to say goodbye, but he didn't, and that is why I'm here.

    I felt the weight of silence wrap around me like a heavy blanket, suffocating yet oddly comforting. It was as if the world outside had paused, holding its breath in anticipation of something unspeakable. I sat there, surrounded by shadows, and thought of all the words left unspoken, the apologies that would never reach my lips. They danced in my mind like fireflies, flickering in and out of existence, taunting me with their brightness against the dull ache in my chest.

Outside, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long fingers of twilight across the ground. I watched the sky bleed colors—fiery oranges and deep purples—wondering how something so beautiful could exist alongside the darkness that clung to me. It felt like a cruel joke, a reminder that even in the depths of despair, life continued to move forward. The cicadas began their nightly symphony, their song a haunting echo of the chaos within me, and I found myself longing for the stillness that never seemed to come.

As I reached for my phone, the coolness of the screen felt foreign against my clammy palms. I hesitated, wondering if I should reach out or simply let the silence consume me. I thought of his voice, how it used to wrap around me like a warm embrace, and how now it was just another ghost lingering in the corners of my mind. I wanted to scream, to shatter the fragile calm that surrounded me, but all that escaped my lips was a choked whisper. In that moment, I understood the weight of absence, the way it seeped into the cracks of my soul, filling them with a heaviness I couldn't shake.