This is yet another week of fiction that comes from my own emotional state of mind. Sorry for such dreary post the last couple of times. I promise I will try to lighten the mood next week, but as anyone with a creative bone in their body knows, you go where your mind takes you.
Have a great week.
Remember let your imagination soar when you read.
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Life can suck worse than a thumb tack stuck in your foot. Okay, maybe worse since the thumb tack can be removed. Change . . . it can’t be avoided. Not even if it is going to upend years of hard work and years of staying stable and in control of your own mind. Nope. It can’t be avoided. Change sucks.
“What is it?” Soft hand slid under my hair, picking up the gentle massage that always soothed my racing through. “You’re going to get lines.”
I huffed, not worrying about lines, but it was typical comment from Mark. The man obsessed over his flawless perfection. I had to agree his rich brown skin was the second thing that drew me to him. First, was his masculine, slightly slanted cheek bones. He was perfection served on a silver platter.
“Ricky . . .”
Oh boy, I was in for it. He never called me by my whole first name, unless he thought I was being childish. Might have been. No need for him to worry over my own stability when I was going to be doing it enough for the next few months.
“I mean it, babe. Tell me what is going on.”
Wasn’t going to bring him down with me. He didn’t need to worry over my ass. He done that enough over the years. Nope. Not bothering him with this issue. Going to keep it . . . Who was I trying to kid. My mouth opened and let it spill free, relieving some of the tension ebbing through my veins.
“My therapist isn’t working for the company anymore. Means I’m going to have to change doctors as well.” I waited for the nod of understanding or the look of sadness mixed with dread, but what I got was way worse. I think. Maybe not. Not sure. Either way, my lover of five years took my mind off the pending change.
“You aren’t the same person. You overcome so much, this will be like taking that long haired little white and gray animal you call Bandit for his daily walk. Doable in your sleep.”
My mouth was pressed against his before the last word hit my ears. It wasn’t the least bit of a sexy kiss, but it wasn’t meant to be. It was meant to show him just how much I appreciated his confidence in me, even if I was sure his words were wrong. It helped to hear encouraging words. It helped to have someone take note of all the progress I made over the years. Other words, my lover did exactly what he always did. Eased my distress.