For a year I’ve stalked her every morning, I’ve sat in that fucking coffee shop while she quietly worked, then gone back again to check if she was there every night, just to protect the woman that apparently I’ve decided is my property. Bonnie is mine. A sense of overwhelming rightness settles inside my chest, that’s immediately followed by a growing sense of anger. Today, my woman was flirting with another guy. He touched her and asked her for her number, he asked her out.
