Swift Scribbles: All Good Things…
I guess that part of me that remains largely skeptical about stuff – good stuff is usually right. It has been that way as far back as I can remember; and it will always be that way.
Or at least – that’s what I like to think.
Somewhere in my head I always feel – or felt – that this syrupy relationship wasn’t meant to last. It all felt too good to be true; but I was having so much fun I threw caution to the winds.
So this afternoon I leave work and head for her house. She’s been under the weather for a couple days – in fact, she just started feeling better. So I have been playing nursemaid – not a job I mind; I assure you. If I was going to be honest sef – I’d probably say I like feeding her, like wiping her mouth after she patiently swallows whatever morsel I am giving her in that moment.
She makes me feel so much –
Okay. I’m at the house, but things are not the way I expect them to be. For one thing – I can hear music and laughter coming from the living room. For another –
For another, I hear her voice. And ‘under the weather’ is no longer an accurate phrase with which I’d describe it.
I walk into the living room, and what meets my eyes is not what I expect at all.
She’s dressed up, looking really good even though she’s slightly pale. At the end of one hand is a wine bottle pouring into a long-stemmed glass. At the end of the other hand is a shoulder.
My eyes travel along the shoulder – and it’s like my worst fears have arrived.
Attached to the shoulder is a man.