the Couch

It was uncomfortable to sleep on a couch after having shared a warm bed with Emily for over a year. It didn’t feel right without her body snuggled next to mine, or her breath on my neck and her leg nestled betwixt my own. My conscience weighed on me as I recalled our dinner and our subsequent yelling match.

Go away. Her voice had sounded so dejected, so broken… But her parents! God, what was I supposed to do? Roll over and pretend like it was okay for them to deny that I was sleeping with their daughter because they were homophobes who couldn’t get over themselves? All so that she would be okay?!…If that’s what it took…

I kicked the blankets off my body and grabbed my pillow, making my way to her room determinedly. Yeah. If that’s what it took, if making her happy meant ignoring her parents or the entire world… I would do it.

I stood before her door and touched the brass script lettering nailed to the front.


There’s no one in the world like Emily.

I opened the door.

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