A few words fell out of my mouth. Just a few of them, they didn’t fall far, but the way they hit the floor - the sound they made - no muffled “never mind” or a wispy “forget it” released on an exhale could take them back. I tried to gather them up in my hands and shove them back down my throat. Useless. You kicked the pile of letters and punctuation across the ground. You grabbed them and threw them at me, over and over and over. You twisted them into a language I didn’t speak.
This is the story we’ve written.
How many more chapters do we have left?