Trouble

I groggily wake up the next morning to a disturbing noise. I open my eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep as Damon's noisy dress-up routine fills the room. He paces back and forth, muttering to himself as he rummage through drawers and closets in search of who knows what. With a sigh, I dragged myself out of bed and approached him, hoping to offer assistance or at least inquire about the cause of his unsettled morning.

“What's the matter, Damon?” I asked, my voice lace with concern that I hate. But he merely brushed past me without a word, his attention consumed by whatever task lay before him. It was a familiar scene, his disregard for my presence, a constant reminder of the growing differences between us.

I make my way to the bathroom, and soak myself under the warm water from the shower. It is a better choice. The shower I mean. If I choose to use the tub today, I might not make it out in a good piece. Not after what happened last night.

Oh! don't be surprised you don't expe