Toothpick

We only ever used to kiss after an argument; but we never rowed anymore. We’d eat in terminal silence, tolerating each other through indifference.  Then one day he used a toothpick and it was nauseating to watch. That was the end. I preferred him with the bit between his teeth.

Advertisement

Leave a Comment

Filed under secret, story

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s