Kayla
KaylaI hate Sunday nights after Pavel leaves when every inch of my body still feels him, yet he’s hundreds of miles away. My heart gets on the plane with him, abandons me and leaves me with a gaping hole in my chest.
Monday mornings are even worse. Every weekend feels harder than the last, and the fact that now I feel like I can’t talk to my roommates about it makes it even worse.
It’s a form of sub-drop. The endorphins from the high of the weekend with Pavel wearing off and leaving me blue. Not like the burst into tears kind I hate but low nonetheless.
I force myself into the shower, recalling every moment of the weekend—good and bad.
When I get out, my phone rings. I pick it up and swipe across the screen when I see it’s Lara.
“Hi, Lara, what’s up?”
“Well, I’m not sure. The
