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He’d make a lucky girl even luckier someday, and they’d live a long, lucky life together. She hoped they experienced food poisoning at least once. Nothing life-threatening, of course. Just inconvenient—make that very inconvenient. And mildly painful. Embarrassing, too.
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she wanted to do nothing for a few moments. Just nothing. Nothing was such a luxury.
It wasn’t loneliness if it could be eradicated with work or a Netflix marathon or a good book. Real loneliness would stick with you all the time. Real loneliness would hurt you nonstop.
“Do you have ...” She glanced to the side as she searched for words. “A perfect woman in your mind? What is she like?” “She leaves me alone.”
He had a crying woman latched on to him like an octopus. He couldn’t help recalling that the blue-ringed octopus was one of the most venomous animals in existence. Don’t upset the octopus.
She couldn’t cry. She was supposed to be happy for the both of them because he didn’t know how.
No one ever looked for him. They all knew he wanted to be alone. Except it wasn’t always that way. Sometimes he was alone out of habit. Sometimes it took effort to distract himself from the growing emptiness inside.
“Fine. I’m just ... fine.” And he wished he wasn’t. If he could manage some manner of dramatic emotional upheaval and prove he was heartbroken at her loss— and therefore in love— he could keep her.
It was distinctly infuriating imagining his socks journeying through the house separately. They were designed to be together. Unlike Khai. He was meant to be a lone sock. Lone socks had a place in this world, too. Not everyone had two feet.
