That even though everyone has played along with a certain narrative, that it’s all one big fucking lie.
THIRTY-EIGHT
VIOLET
Colson: This morning wasn’t enough for me.
Violet: It wasn’t enough for me either.
Colson: You’ll be waiting for me in your birthday suit for when I’m done working then?
Violet: Depends.
Colson: On what?
Violet: If I’m allowed to touch myself while I wait.
Colson: Fuuuuck.
Colson: You can’t say things like when we’re not together.
Violet: *sends multimedia picture*
Colson: I can’t open that here.
Colson: Is it a sexy picture of you?
Colson: Please tell me it is.
Violet: Open it and find out for yourself.
Colson: Shit, I can’t.
Colson: Fuck it.
Colson: I’m opening it.
Colson: REALLY? -_-
Colson: Your goddamn feet?
Violet: I’m painting my toenails. You know…getting ready for birthday suit attire.
Colson: You know I hate feet.
Colson: But if there were any I could love, they’d definitely be yours.
Violet: I’m flattered.
Colson: You’re going to be something else when I get off work.
Violet: What’s that?
Colson: Freshly fucked.
Havingnothing better to do than sit and watch reruns of 80s movies, I curl up on the couch and text Olive. I text Colson too because I miss him. Being back to long days of class and work have been torture for the needy side of me that wants nothing but to spend time with him.
And today has been worse.
