Women are made to be loved, not understood.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

[Friday, August 22nd (Day 453)]
[Late Afternoon, The General Store]

I've mulled this over as long as possible. There was talking, there was compromising, there was some happy note there at the end: and still, still, I have no idea where we stand. It shouldn't bother me -- it doesn't bother me, i won't let it -- but it does. She slept just fine, I made sure of that, with nothing else to worry after. It's not as though I can't cook, I've learned to tend to the baby, and there's room enough for all three of us here, more than enough if she'd think to step foot in the damn house I bought--

To be fair, I'm probably wrong. And to be fair, I doubt if it even matters. But, to be fair, I am drunk.

So I run a comb through my hair, find a mint hiding in the nightstand drawer, and head over to the General Store.

[Open to Kate]

[Closed]