When It Ends

by Penelope Black

When you grow up the way I did, never staying longer than a few years in one place, it creates a restlessness. I never let myself settle because it made it that much harder to leave.

I hope whoever decided on the complex names of antibiotics never knows the joy of a cool pillow at night.

“Someone had to keep watch while the three of you fucked around like we’re on spring break,” Cole grumbles without looking up. I let his surly attitude roll off my back and instead go for a surprise counterattack. I place my now-clean fork down next to my plate and sit back. “You should’ve joined us.”