My husband was gone yesterday, subjecting himself to painful labor, and I felt his absence keenly. Ruled by a patterned instinct, I looked for his face and felt a subtle sinking when it did not greet me.
Air replaced his rough hand upon my spine and voices from the distance shadowed the familiar words that used to spill forth from his lips.
Strange, after so brief an acquaintance, I should long for that which I despised. Fickle is the heart that follows what it flees.
The servants alone kept me company. After my husband's violent injustices towards them, I feel great sympathy for their state. They bumble and stumble, but seek their best to please.
The green hills of Dolores park also cheered me greatly. Yet, the bright sun beams belied the cold that snuck into our clothes.
I dream of days where the whisper of warmth will heat our bones, yet I fear the powerful onslaught of the sun's beams will make for miserable company.
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1 comment:
Hahahahaha! You are awesome. I foresee a lucrative career as a romance novel in your very near future!
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