Jan 9, 2015
It always seems like a promise, doesn't it? "We'll explore Brooklyn...You should meet my brother...I can teach you to drive." A promise of a future, of tomorrows together still to come.
The green toothbrush next to mine. The loofah just for him. A third towel hanging upon the rack. Contact solution for the contacts I do not wear. A promise of nights spent together, of mornings preparing for the day.
But words can be empty and things easily disposed. A thirty second sweep and all physical traces disappear. When did it become so easy?
