He was sober enough for the both of us. Not that I'd ever seen him drunk. Just little skips of delirium that would punctuate his depression. Some cousin of euphoria that preferred to serve its ice cream already melted.
Even when he was miserable I still envied him.
Everything to lose. And risking all of it. Stuffing dollar bills into slot machines dubbed sex. And always winning.
It was at his lowest points that I loved him the most. It was the way he made love to me that last time that I knew it was just sex.
Something like a tumor. Showing up long after it can't be removed.
Monday
12/04/2006 01:33:00 AM
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