I asked her about her Sunday evening. She said only dinner with Nita. I described the feeling of a swift gut punch. I almost fell to my knees—the urge to vomit in my throat. The guilt of silence follows with a “we watched a movie and cuddled.”
We have never cuddled. Her need for constant emotional connection with those she deems worthy is borderline. I knew she was poly. I knew she become my addiction. I know I will OD. The answer is when.
This moment in time recalled.
Her mourning coffee 