Sunday
Sitting in Lee's big leather chair, listening to him snore at two in the afternoon. The sun is roasting outside, I can feel the heat even with the curtains drawn. I'm lazily bored. I wish I was out swimming, or sitting in a shade reading a book. Instead, I'm cooped up at home waiting for Lee to wake up. Is it bad that I think of other people, other places, other possibilities when I'm sitting here in Lee's room typing away?
I love Lee, but it is in still and silent moments like these that I'm certain: this is not the kind of life I want. Not in the long run.
There