Eighty pounds of matted love sprawled across the nineteen-year-old girl seated in my living room, who was wearing my favorite T-shirt and my daughter’s plaid pajama bottoms. A dark feeling sawed through me. Dark, clawing, and painfully euphoric. I’d imagined a similar scene on a night in late June, a year and a half ago—only, minus the dog and the bevy of external bullshit. Halley. In my apartment. Wearing that same smile and one of my T-shirts after a night of hot and heavy bliss. Fantasies.
😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
