I just want to know, I said that night, siting on a bench under a street lamp. All these years, and did I leave you with anything? I asked. Did I leave a mark, so when you do this thing you'll forever think "there was this girl, one time, she showed me how to do... Continue Reading →
You said, after an argument. We agreed to name our flaws. We thought it’d be a way to navigate the name-calling. I like it, I said, because I tended to be agreeable in the glow of a post-fight. Controlling Charlie, you smiled, minutes later, when I chose the black beans with spice instead of the... Continue Reading →
You said "take them all" when I left, which made us both smile, through gritted teeth. Keep the couch, I offered. When you didn't respond: YOU’RE WELCOME, I enunciated. You hate this couch, you said. It reminded you we had no money. You called it the ‘cum-couch’. It belonged to college students. Of course it’s... Continue Reading →
Lindsey Hall Writes 