The Ghostwriter

by A.R. Torre

Funny what you find out about people when they leave you. Or when your mind stops making excuses for all of their clues.

There should be a rule in the universe, one that states that mortal problems will fade with a terminal diagnosis. I’m dying. I shouldn’t have to deal with petty shit on my way out.

“What kind of girl was she?” He surprises me, laughing. “Reckless. You ever met a Cajun woman?” “No.” “They’re hell. I thought women from Texas had backbone. Half our relationship, I was terrified of her. The other half I spent trying my best to protect her from herself.”

Their cruel or stupid behavior is a gift of sorts, because it lets you see the real person that they are beneath.”

A love story has a series of requirements, an equation for success. Love + Loyalty = Happily Ever After. I’ve written and read enough in this life to understand that an equation for success rarely produces it, but that breaking the rules typically guarantees failure. I think marriage is the same way.

That is how life is, it gives us burdens to carry and doesn’t give a damn about the weight. We shoulder it or we break.