The silent wall.
I stare at it.
Willing it to speak.
Willing it to grow a hand and reach through to me.
To touch me.
I fell in love with the wall months ago.
We’ve had some back and forths. Lovely ones. Start and stop ones.
He is attractive. Tall. His smile pulls you in (though usually it’s not there). Hair is reddish-blonde. He looks great in a baseball cap. His face is a bit wrinkled — more than you’d expect for forty-seven years — but not much. Are the wrinkles from the sun?
“Okay, I’ll remind you tomorrow night at 7 pm. By the way, when your reminder rings, you can snooze it by saying, “Remind me again in 15 minutes.”
“Oooooo, well there’s an interesting thought! I had not thought of that one.”
She’s not a stickler when it comes to working…
Here is a real story
of a real Bumble Date
of a real man
Who’s real first name was Michael
and who’s fake last name was Venice.
He did not touch my pussy. His fingers grazed two centimeters beyond it.
He pushed me up against his car and made out…
the great gatsby really got me, this time. it was lost on me in high school — i was annoyed and confused with it, then. i was a christian. i remember judging the narrator for not realizing that he was wasting his breath on the whole story, because of course…