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Find what you love and let it kill you. ~ (Falsely attributed to) Charles Bukowski
My company, Lit Happens, has one location, five employees, and “assets” that include an assortment of feral cats that wander in and out and an ancient espresso machine possessed by a fire demon that once burst into flames just as the city health inspector arrived to conduct the annual inspection on the tiny café inside the store.
“Don’t judge me. My life’s falling apart. Liquor is the answer.”
“Liquor is never the answer. Especially at ten o’clock on a Friday morning.” “Ha! Says the infant with no problems.”
I take another swig from the bottle, cap it, then put it back under the counter. Because although I’d never admit aloud that my young and unjaded employee is right, she’s right. Ten o’clock is much too early to drink. I’ll wait until noon to really get started.
“Because my wife asked me to. And I’ll give her anything she wants.”
“Because I’m yours. You’ve tattooed your name on everything inside me. The least I can do is make the outside match.”
“You wear my ring. You sleep in my bed. You made a promise in front of witnesses to have and to hold me for the rest of your life. You chose me, Emery. And because you chose me, you own me, now and forever, come what may.”
“I know you think we should’ve gone slow. But I know nothing of slowness. I dove into you like the ocean, headfirst, not caring if I’d drown.”
It’s going to be a disaster. I already know it will be. When liars like us fall in love, everything else falls apart.
