Azul by Kate Gray
You loved silence, and all I wanted was the salt of your voice.
Recently Published
I no longer harangue every desk nurse at every hospital for a taxonomic breakdown of her bills. I don’t ask for the numbers of the Benadryl, the water cups, the abdominal touches done with gloved hands. I am the most American I’ve ever been—she costs what she costs and I eat it.
You loved silence, and all I wanted was the salt of your voice.
I felt, I don’t know, tense. Tense and annoyed. Sick of waking up alone, sick of eating alone, sick of thinking a bus could hit me on the way to work and everyone would pity the passengers whose commute was delayed.
We spend the next month exploring the limits of our ghost selves.
Matthew may have been near ignorant when it came to sailing, but it didn’t take a yachtsman to figure out he had forgotten the part where you insert the drain plug before putting the boat in the water.
<div class=“no-indent">Now, lullabying the puppies calm is enough.</div>