There's a fun thing about Caleb. When he's singing along with James Blunt or even Chris Martin, Caleb's accent is almost audible again. It's a very slight heightened received-pronounciation and it's a treat to my ears because he stuffs it as far inside as he can and only sets it free when he is half-drunk or very tired indeed, and neither of those conditions have I seen in a very long time, frankly.
But last night we burned dinner, got in a bickery-fight and made up over a late glass of brandy by the fire, so I technically began and ended my day in flames under a full moon and that's okay. Mondays be like that.
He sang to me briefly, my head propped against his shoulder, drink forgotten, eyes open and fully hypnotized by the flames, white spirals into nothingness. A Bullwinkle cartoon, an inevitable end to a long stretch of not trying hard enough, I guess and so I had resolved to try harder tomorrow.
And so far I am. I'm up at a good hour. Coffee's almost gone from my cup (already reheated it once), have not seen the devil since around eleven pm last night when I bid goodnight to him, his expression one of pure naked surprise, having assumed I would follow through, and I'm finishing the laundry while I dance all around the news without reading any of it any more.
My phone just buzzed and it's Caleb, awake and ready to stuff rejection as far inside as he can, setting his needs free and cloaking his surprise in determination, but whether it be real or fake is not important right now. What matters is that he needs to feel like he wins.
Tonight we'll bring the brandy up with us.
XOCXC
To which I reply because full moons are for tiny wolves and devils alike:
Okay
XOB
I'm not sure why we put our initials but we do it more often than not. It's a tiny ritual of a different kind, I guess. I usually leave it off when I'm relaying things we've written to a page. I don't know why that's important. It's probably not, really.
But last night we burned dinner, got in a bickery-fight and made up over a late glass of brandy by the fire, so I technically began and ended my day in flames under a full moon and that's okay. Mondays be like that.
He sang to me briefly, my head propped against his shoulder, drink forgotten, eyes open and fully hypnotized by the flames, white spirals into nothingness. A Bullwinkle cartoon, an inevitable end to a long stretch of not trying hard enough, I guess and so I had resolved to try harder tomorrow.
And so far I am. I'm up at a good hour. Coffee's almost gone from my cup (already reheated it once), have not seen the devil since around eleven pm last night when I bid goodnight to him, his expression one of pure naked surprise, having assumed I would follow through, and I'm finishing the laundry while I dance all around the news without reading any of it any more.
My phone just buzzed and it's Caleb, awake and ready to stuff rejection as far inside as he can, setting his needs free and cloaking his surprise in determination, but whether it be real or fake is not important right now. What matters is that he needs to feel like he wins.
Tonight we'll bring the brandy up with us.
XOCXC
To which I reply because full moons are for tiny wolves and devils alike:
Okay
XOB
I'm not sure why we put our initials but we do it more often than not. It's a tiny ritual of a different kind, I guess. I usually leave it off when I'm relaying things we've written to a page. I don't know why that's important. It's probably not, really.