Sunday, March 3, 2013


I remember that you used to like breakfast.

"Do you want to go get breakfast?" I suggest.

"NO.  I don't fucking want to go to breakfast."
The tone in your voice is expected.  But for the first time, I stand my ground.  I refuse to apologize to the maddening mess you are becoming.  I spin on my heel to walk away.

"Well, fuck you and the wrong side of the bed you woke up on."

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