whipchick (whipchick) wrote,
whipchick
whipchick

What's it worth?

He yawns loudly from behind the bedroom door, which I know is the signal for please come have sex with me now. We joke about it, I’ve already planned to wake him the best way from his nap.

I open the door. I kiss him.

He says, “I can’t fall asleep.”

I say, “You’ll have to fake it for forty-five more minutes, I’m writing with Kate.”

I have an appointment. Two hours. Sex penciled in for the end of the slot, the right time-span for him to have a nap, for me to write, to get back to the habit and the pages and the writing buddy I’ve been missing.

He gets up anyway. Smokes. Gets dressed. I put in my headphones, worry that I’m losing a chance to show my boyfriend I love him, undoing the emails and phone calls and lessons in his (otherwise useless) language, then turn up the music and type.

Still worrying.

Still typing.


 
Tags: non-fiction, wholesale vs retail
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 5 comments