I am too dizzy to eat, though the lemon cake smells good. She made it for me because she knows I am sad. We will argue when she finds me in here, a bit lifeless, though I laugh like someone who is passionate about joy. My wish is to fall asleep until the cake molds and she doesn’t care anymore. I finish the last drop of Merlot as her hand twists open the door knob. We scream at the same time when she enters. I stroke the bottle’s neck as she kisses mine, her doleful sobs bringing the hairs on my body to life. I imagine she is feeding me and cry too. My stomach feels better empty, empty like the rest of my body.
about the author:
Ashlie Allen writes fiction and poetry. She also enjoys photography. Her favorite wine is Merlot.