I sit alone, staring at my phone.
I await responses to two messages. My stomach churns in anticipation.
The first, a response from my brother. Our bond is close. Our personalities are not.
I would help him move a body, but I wouldn’t tell him about my feelings. I think I have hurt his.
To make up for it, I tell him that I love him. I’ve never said that to him before, even though I’ve always felt it. I don’t know what he’ll say….
The second, a response from a woman. The woman I am infatuated with.
I have offered her a letter. One that will expose my soul. One that could ruin my life, or make it bearable once again…
My phone buzzes.
A response has come, but from whom?
It’s my mother... She sent me three pictures of her toilet.