May 27, 2024

My kind of monster

I’d moved out, told her I was filing.

Left a letter on her desk in the home office.

I know, I know, I am a gem.

Then the job I had fell through.

Had to move back in.

And it starts again.

That voice.

The one that tells you it’s not so bad.

Because it isn’t.

Not really.

She’s a genuinely good person.

It didn’t end because I cheated.

Not this time, anyway.

See “gem” above.

We get along, most days.

Except “not bad” isn’t good enough.

Not anymore.

Because the monster doesn’t have to be a dragon.

No one needs to be screaming.

Nothing has to be on fire.

It’s OK to walk away.

Even if the village is still standing.