Unscripted

Summary

Alex and I had a rental-unit kind of love. The kind built in a space that was never truly ours, filled with furniture we promised we’d replace one day.

Lately, that space had felt emptier than usual. He was a ghost, leaving before sunrise and returning long after I’d fallen asleep.

Tonight, when he finally walked in, reeking of the city and exhaustion, something in me snapped.

I slapped him. The sound was sharp and ugly in our small living room.

And then the text appeared, floating in my vision like a cruel, omniscient narrator’s notes.