He went to work. I talked with mom. It was quiet and lazy. I blended cumin, cardamom, coriander, and cloves from my dinner recipe, then stretched out
on the couch. Rise, chop the onions and peel the garlic, lie back again. The day was hazy and
milky and leaked into the house in strips. Cut up bits of chicken.
Tarragon. White rice bubbling over.
We went to movie, but I had wanted to talk. I had wanted to say things but didn't speak them until it was too late. He was playing when he covered my mouth in the theatre to hush me, but I didn't feel playful. He moved down several rows. So we walked down the street afterwards, to the playground.
I don't like feeling manipulated to ask you questions you already have answers for. Just tell me what you want to say.
I'm trying, or maybe, I want to try. This is so hard and I can't even swallow because I'm afraid I won't be able to breathe.
We've spent the last 2 months overanalyzing why this won't work. This week, we have got to remember the reasons we want this to work. Otherwise, we should just end it right now.
I know you are right. Please. No. I want nothing less than to just enjoy you, this time we have. Please. Yes. Let's start over.