Forgetful

I forgot what I was going to say. That’s always my go-to answer; although, lately I have been forgetting what I was going to say. But, my boyfriend, yes the-love-of-my-life, furrows his brows, bringing them together, the way he always does when he’s unhappy with my answers and in almost a whimper speaks, “You never finish your stories, stopping at the half-point. I don’t know where this is going?” And he spins his body away from mine, turning away from me, as if unable to keep on looking into my eyes. “What’s the story? How does it end?” All I know is that what he’s asking is, how do we end? Moreover, how do I end?

Mikkel. At least I’m still able to recall his name.

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