Status Updates From Worsted

One night she wanted to know something about me. I coughed out an account of myself. I tried to make a case for having once wanted a full and tiring life. I described a bounteous enough marriage to a wife summarily venerated, a wife who sipped at life through last straws….

We would coach each other forward into bed, where she always thought she ought to owe herself something first... Yet when you touch someone- if you're going to take things that far- where all must the hand really go?

…I was living with a groggily scholarly older man…He did not want me to work…wanted me staying put at home, daintily abed…the poor guy had yet to find out that I had all along been overdoing it with a scathingly blond, preachy…woman who was married…To this day, I restrict how I feel about her- I set limits, and then I cheat. It's darker in a room that has people in it than in one that doesn't.

…his oldest is rarely present for what her life entails…she is never quite actually in person and instead operates on a kind of delay, trailing after herself in her own wake, sinking only with reluctance into her accumulated life, then backing out again…she's working part-time for a caterer and writing songs about herself. Most of the songs have the same title:
"I Do Most of the Business Cards Around Here."