We sat over coffee in an evenly lit beige office. I needed to get something off my chest. I didn’t know how, just that I needed to. I didn’t let people in, especially not inside my head.
A flickering hazelnut candle hung thick, retracing the tension in my chest to pour my heart on a silver platter, weighted, sunk in still water. She tapped a pen on her notepad like a ticking time bomb, but she felt so far away. I told her what she asked to know.
She broke down her life. I told her I was insecure about the past. What I did to Angie last year wasn’t fair.
She told me that the biggest mistake of my life wasn’t my past — no, the biggest mistake of my life is that I wasn’t stripping nude to sleep with her.
(© 2022 AC)