On My Birthday I Stood In Front Of Everyone With A Black Eye

mug, the steam a small comfort against my bruised cheek. The party was over. The balloons spelling out my name seemed to mock the scene. One of my old colleagues quietly paid the bill, and people began to slip out, mumbling goodbyes that I didn’t have to return.

Soon it was just James and me in the emptying restaurant.

He drove me home. The silence in continue reading …