Life in November

by Haley Warren

I squint, half-tempted to rub my hands against my eyes, like I can make it go away and pretend I’m not a thirty-year-old woman, haunted by the ghosts of food that used to control her life. And then I see those numbers—eight, seventeen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-two. Ethan grabs my plate, dragging it over to his side of the table, the other hand pushing one of his in front of me. This dish, I recognize. I’ve had it before. Mi Goreng. Vegetarian. Onion. Bok Choy. Shallot. Cabbage. One somehow perfectly cooked fried egg on top. “Why’d you do that?” I look up, lips parted, everything about me feeling so fucking heavy, but my lungs feel fuller because I like the looks of this dish. It’s something I would have picked for myself. Ethan shrugs, grabbing a rib with his bare hands and looking beyond me at the TV hanging over the bar. “Yours looks better.”

oh hes sweet

“Just get a BnB with two beds. You hog the fucking covers, yeah?”

looking away only for a moment to grab the bottle from the bartender who’s appeared beside us. He twists the cap expertly before tossing it into an empty ashtray on the table. “You aren’t going to give me the new one?” I ask incredulously. Ethan’s already looking back at the TV and only spares me a sideways glance. “No. Penance for being a bitch.”

Sebastian probably took all the humility genes in the womb, leaving nothing for his sister.

“Can’t wait to see you get all hot and bothered over some bones.”