witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

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He’s an actor and possesses every trite cliche you’d expect from the type. I don’t recognize him or his academy nominations. At my ignorance, his eyes narrow and his nose scrunches up causing his brows to furrow; calmly and controlled, the way water slowly creeps to the shore.

He doesn’t know how to open the wine bottle without a corkscrew. I attempt to help him but he insists on doing it himself, stabbing the cork clumsily but cautiously—like a child trying to pop bubbles. The cork drops inside with an unexpected splash over his white t-shirt. An excuse for him to disrobe.

He’s invited a friend for us to play with. She’s slim and generous. They lead me to the bedroom. I’m devoured like plums in the icebox, but I was saving myself for breakfast.

10:16 p.m. - Monday, Jan. 08, 2018

Then - Now