Wish You'd Disappear

...What I remember most about my time with Carey is the feeling of his warm breath on my shoulder as we slept, the indent from his body and the smell of his cologne where he had rested on my white sheets, the stray butter knife always on the counter when I woke up—caked in both peanut butter and jam. Late night burgers downtown, chased with a pint of beer. Talk of horses and rodeos and roping. Drunk renditions of country songs complete with his own version of that twang.

My hand reached for the comfort of my wine glass. The sharp red merlot burned down my throat to reside in my stomach...

Disclaimer: I don't own Carey Price or other players in the story, nor do I know them personally. As always this is all fiction.
Title Credit: Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men