Woebegone

In the morning I wake to a bitter cold that may even match my mood. He’s walking around the kitchen and I want to reach for his heart. He glances at me briefly. I feel like crying again but my body is dry. I pull at a blanket that I didn't fall asleep with tighter around my body and watch him. He bathes his toast in peanut butter.

“Eat” he says and hands me my own plate of peanut butter smothered toast.

I wonder if we love each other as we love peanut butter but I think we’re both too bitter to love. We did once, I’m sure.

Once again he leaves and I’m alone.