miicider
Dear Paul,
It’s been five years since your passing, yet I see you in our daughter each day. She’s named Avery. You were sent back to God before having the chance to meet her, but I wanted you to know that she’s grown to be such a lively young girl – she’s really smart, too. She has your baby blues, you know, and your freckles! She looks just like you.
Dear Paul,
It’s been five years since your passing, yet I see you in our daughter each day. She’s named her Avery. You were sent back to God before having the chance to meet her, but I wanted you to know that she’s grown to be such a lively young girl – she’s really smart, too. She has your baby blues, you know, and your freckles! She’s looks just like you.
I sit at my vanity, run a comb through my thinning auburn hair, and apply my powder and my lipstick. I pick out my lingerie, and decide on his favorite – a delicate white lace number. I walk to the foyer and wait anxiously by the door.
Then the phone rings. I don’t bother picking up. Instead, I slip back into my nightgown, blow out the candles and crawl into the cold bed. Alone.
Work before play, huh? What a stupid policy.
The bathroom door is locked and the water is running, but no one is fooled. I crouch over, leaning slightly on the cold porcelain, and I repent.
The bathroom door is locked and the water is running, but no one is fooled.
I crouch over, leaning slightly on the cold porcelain, and I repent.
In the darkness, my hands reached for his face. I touched him.
My hands slid gently from his temples to his chin, from his chin to his forehead. I felt the shape of his lips, the slope of his nose and the worry in his expression. My heart sank.
writing since 2011 · 6 entries · 4 days shown up
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doorcoldhandschinbathroomlockedwaterrunningfooledcrouchleaningslightlyporcelainrepentdearpaul