7
RHETT
I hadn’t seen my lover light up in months like he’d done while studying his phone. Our continued failures in finding the type of woman he wanted had dragged him down until I worried over depression escalating to the point he might need medication.
His soft smile while he’d studied the woman he’d deemed “perfect” had lanced a sweet ache through my chest, similar and yet different from the hurt I often rubbed at while watching my dad stare at Mom.
Her lungs continued to expand, her heart beat, but only due to man’s intervention. Zero indication of brain activity suggested she might open her eyes and speak ever again.
The small chapel I’d hidden in to talk to my love pressed in on me long after we’d ended our video call, the dimmed light stifling.
Like a plastic bag settled over
