He’s been calling all day. I know what he wants. I’m content to lounge, though. In pajama pants and dirty Uggs, the grey t-shirt I love and will wear forever, reading a fucked-up novel and wallowing in the self-pity she left behind with me. Ignoring him doesn’t work. Apparent at 10:45 p.m. when he arrives … Continue reading january 28 – an excerpt from a f*cked-up fairytale.