The Co-op

by Tarah DeWitt

Five foot eleven at nineteen made her intimidating, so she’s damn formidable now.

“For the record,” I add, careful to keep my tone as dry as possible, “you really only wielded your charms on everyone but me. Most of the time.” He rarely flirted with me before we got together, actually. He angles his head considerately. “Most of the time, I couldn’t figure out what you’d be charmed by anyway, Rynn.”

The way the sight of her—black hair, black dress, and walking over an aisle of blue—makes her look like one of those sirens coming up from the sea.

I strive to be a scary woman

“Because that’s my wife.”

EEEEEEHHHHH

But someone loves me at home. Someone who loves my sharp edges as much as all my softer ones, too, and even the ones I haven’t quite got figured out yet. And I’m no longer afraid.

woah…I need therapy