An L-shaped couch stuffed into the corner exists only with me in it. I’m slouched, squished between cotton fabric and blankets of yellow light and lined linen. My hand is aching from scribbling down words for like, hours, stringing together strands about some far-off, mysterious land covered in flowers. My big bowl of mint chocolate chip sitting on the little end table didn’t even melt—it was gone way before that. My phone buzzes across the room and stand up slowly, dragging my elegant gown of blankets. I’m the Queen of Comfy tonight.
An invite reminder comes up on my phone since I was supposed to go out tonight. Guilt bit a little hole in my mood. I stood there for a while blankly staring down at the glow of my phone when he
finally shuffles in the room.
I gaze up at him in his white t-shirt with a look on my face that’s probably like a mix of confusion and well, guilt.
He ruffles my hair, messing up my curls but it’s fine since I think that a big mess is the purest form of self.
“Well now I can’t go for sure right?” I say. “I’m a mess,”
“You’re a happy mess,” he tells me. “You never intended on going anywhere.”
You flip on TLC, the ultimate nothing channel and we can’t even skip the commercials. I’m fine with that too since nothing is nothing with him. My phone buzzes again.
“It’s Paige texting me.” I mutter.
“Are you sad you aren’t going?” He asks.
“No.” I answer, content.
I disappear into cozy again.