Page 72 of Paradox
I slice off a round piece of crust, take a bite, then cut two thick slices. While I munch away on the crust I make a PB&J and cut it down the middle.
At the door, I put on Tek’s jacket and the beanie Eden gave me.
Stepping onto the porch, I see his snowshoes are missing, and my heart sinks.
Keeping my head up, I carry the sandwich I made for him down the steps, and make my way around the dugout track only to find that he’s not out here. Nothing has been moved in his truck, the shack’s door is closed, and there’s no extra firewood in the stack out the back.
On my second lap I call out to him, but still nothing. And that’s when I notice the snowshoe tracks leading off down the trail to the lake.
After staring at it for what feels like forever, hoping that I’ll see him coming back to me, I give up, and turn to the cabin.
Every step I take, I count out loud. Because if I don’t, I'll cry.
Inside again, I put Eden’s sandwich on the table and fetch another plate.
The sandwich I make for myself is much smaller—less PB, more J—and I shovel it in my mouth. After washing it down with my brown sugar coffee, I walk to the under stairs cupboard to get some clean clothes.
Since the books have been sitting in piles beside the dining table, I’ve been storing my stuff on the shelf in there. And eventhough it’s only one shelf in an entire cabin, it’s actually nice to have somewhere that’s just for me. Even if it is hidden away.
I’ve showered.
Sorted the clean and dirty dishes.
Refilled the hot water tank with fresh snow.
Dusted every surface.
Used the carpet sweeper everywhere.
Washed our cum stained clothes in the tub, and hung them by the fire.
I’ve even watched the first two Mighty Duck movies, and Eden is still not back yet.
It’s past three thirty in the freaking afternoon.
I don’t want to be left alone anymore.
I want him here with me.
I want to look into his eyes and see what they’re telling me today.
I want to…
I want to stop looking out the window beside me at the lake track every five seconds, but I can’t do it from here.
Stopping D3 before the title has even appeared on screen, I turn off the TV and head to the books.
I need something I can get lost in that takes as little brain power as possible.
I pick at the pile until something so flowery, so typicallynot mealmost jumps out.
Period romance…
The book is old, and the blurb isn't overly enticing, but any ship in a storm when you’re desperate, right?
Thankfully my hangover is long gone, so, distancing myself from any window, I toss all the cushions in the middle of the floor by the stove, and lay down.
With another brown sugar coffee by my side, I open up the first page and start…
