The Couple in the Cabin

by Daniel Hurst

the more time she lives without me, the more she might realise that she won’t die if I’m not around every day.

I’ve thrown away the love of a great woman for the love of a woman who always would have got bored of me in the end.

I am deriving particular pleasure from witnessing her bra turning to ashes. No longer is it white and pure, but now it is as black and sullied as the heart of the woman who once wore it.

And I’d certainly be happier if my mum liked me.

MOOD LMAOOOO