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“Are you seeing someone else?”

His words caused her head to spring from her phone. She had been smiling down at a funny comment someone wrote on Instagram, phone clasped in her left hand, fork in the other hand, feeding herself the plate of spaghetti that sat on the dining table before her.

Now she was staring at Arthur,

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I dream of you. I wake up and pick up my phone to text you.

There’s an uneasy lump in my throat as I type you a two page text.

I spill my heart out on these pages.

I read all I’ve written, twice I think.
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