Not Breakable
“Probably” is doing a lot of heavy lifting there.
I got home from a shift this morning and Cal had changed the batteries in my smoke detector, bought groceries, fixed the loose knob on the bathroom sink, and left three different self-defense articles open on my laptop.
That man has never met a boundary he couldn’t step over in the name of “protecting” me.
I yelled. He yelled back. Then he made me eggs and acted like that solved something.
Which, annoyingly, it sort of did.
I know he means well. I know that. But sometimes it feels like everybody decided I was something breakable fifteen years ago and never bothered to update the file.
I’m not breakable, Ash.
Bent maybe. Mean on occasion. Chronically unimpressed. But not breakable.
Also, because apparently the universe likes irony, a stray cat has started hanging around outside my building. It is orange. It is hideous. It is super bossy.
I haven’t let it in.
Yet.
—Reva