Wednesday we promised ourselves we wouldn’t make any plans for the weekend.
Because just once we wanted to know what an obscene stretch of unfillled time felt like. How interesting it would be to decide how to spend all that time when zero obligations stood in the way.
Then, on Friday, we argued about sex and I cried until midnight.
And now I wish for weekend plans, because the hurtful silence will that stretch out Saturday and Sunday is what’s obscene.