Member-only story
The Threat of Losing You
In That Haze — No2 (Micro)
You no longer smiled at me like you had once done.
Everything came back to the money. You always hungered after it as if you were a wolf slavering for prey. I tried to talk you down — honey, I love you no matter what you do, please stop stressing yourself out like this — but you wouldn’t have it. It was always about your job, your career, your ambitions.
I longed for the man who had made me so enraptured with conversations that had lasted hours. I wondered where the one who had dazzled me with wit and charm over wine had gone. I wished for the days when you would leave me scraps of poetry in the bathroom before you left for the office.
It was the third night this week you told me you’d be staying late. I stared at the flowers I had brought home, the roses wilting in their plastic holder, and debated whether or not I should just throw them away. You would have frowned at them, maybe — or perhaps you would have offered a little smile.
The truth? I was worried. So worried. Every day you grew more and more silent.
I was losing you inch by inch. I had known as soon as the poetry disappeared.
Before I could rethink it, I grabbed the flowers and ran to the train station. I didn’t care that I was a mess at nine…
