I say I saw our future together. It was charred. His speech was electronically charged. Did he hear my plea? My memory is cascading. The new wounds kept forming where the old ones flaked. That was the problem with him, you understand. Nothing much was wrong with him. Nothing much except his vision of the world; monochrome. And his monologues. The white was white. The black was black.
So I walked away! To the adjacent . Still the folks called me Shirley Valentine.
I am happy with my new man. The future is bright; not charred. Said the grandmother.
Copyright © YASEMIN BALANDI | Year Posted 2017