Loneliness is a stranger with a spare key. She shows up unannounced, tracking in dirt and grime, and makes herself at home. She pours herself a glass of wine but doesn’t care to decant the bottle. She refuses to let things sit or settle but dwells on my couch or the chair in my office until the Cabernet spoils.
I’ve been wanting to write this for awhile and I finally found time to do so. Feedback is much appreciated. – Dahv * * * I knew I had to make a change when your handwritten notes read more and more like receipts. Scribbles of “this means so much” or “you didn’t have to get me (insert list of gifts here)” looked like typed transactions, convincing me to spend more and visit again with...