"good morning,"
i offered your mom a smile.
it was eight,
i hadn't slept.
i
c o u l d
not
bring myself to sleep next to you.
she blinked,
once,
twice
t h r e e times.
until she rolled her eyes, "it's not good anymore..." i heard her mumble as she placed down her coffee cup
on the
flawless
granite countertop.
YOU ARE READING
touched ✓
Short Storystory #2 in the 'for the flawed' series. tw | abuse every night you held me. making me feel disgusting, because you were the s e c o n d to touch me. © 2014 flawed- (lowercase intended for stylistic purposes.) [Jan 16, 2015:: #2 in short story.]
