What Makes Us

What Makes Us

“I’m not sure about us.”

“Us as in anymore?”

“What we are.”

“Well what are we.”

“The same, but something feels off.”

He huffed and looked indignant. A little bubble of spittle caught at the edge of his mouth. “You’re the one who slept on the couch last night.”

“I fell asleep there. It wasn’t a conscious choice.”

“You coulda come in.”

She turned to open a cupboard and stopped. “What’s your idea of us.”

“I… don’t know. I don’t know anymore and I don’t know if I ever knew.” She could only nod along and turn back towards him, leaving the cupboard door unopened. 

“Are you going to make coffee?”

“Seems like the last thing I should be doing right now.”

“We can talk about it…”

“… over coffee…”

“That’s what it’s good for, right?” He said with a sly smile.

“What if I don’t want to talk?”

“Do you have another suggestion?”

“I don’t know how to get sort this, whatever it is.”

“Don’t call it a funk.”

He opened his arms and said, “Can I at least hold you?”


Today’s art is courtesy of Elias Ravanetti from Los Angeles, USA.

Where's Ed

Where's Ed

You Don't Get Here Without A Few Scars Along The Way

You Don't Get Here Without A Few Scars Along The Way