This week has been insulating, my heart too bruised for anything but a cotton wool retreat. Reina and Ryan have been mild life-savers, smiling circles floating on waves. Underneath my feet I can’t bear to see, though I should look. Matthew is coming back this week or the next.
Apparently he’s been fucking around again. Not only on me this time, but a couple of others.
Welcome to the lie, ladies. Take a number.