Of him. Of the texts. Of my “I’m coming home I swear” lie from 2am. Democracy is dead in this flat and I’m the president.
Tag: texts
Not proud. Also not sorry. His mum, his ex, a booking for two at Dishoom. I screenshotted the Dishoom one for later.
The bill was fine. The speech about “what this means” was not. I kissed him to shut him up. It worked. Temporarily.