The Miracle in July

Lucy's underground
She's got a mouth to feed
Am I underground
Or am I in between

[When I'm Small] by [Phantogram]

The evidence suggests that it was the week immediately following my return to Portland, after my two monumental weeks with Daniel in Denmark, when [the end] of our love affair began. The distance between us was now, more than ever, a catastrophic burden for our partnership. Yes, we had already begun to plot out ways to reunite – the next time in Portland – with the eager belief that love conquers all; but such hypothetical scenarios couldn't overcome the visceral suffering separation would inflict on me when I returned home.

I could still smell Daniel in my skin for days after my return; shower steam could not lift his scent from the places inside me that he had touched. Simply allowing myself to think about being with him physically would trigger ripples of goosebumps on the places where he'd brushed his fingers and his lips. I was very much enchanted and in love with the Danish man.

In my dreams each night, a vivid, private show of sensual memory-recall would bring back the taste of his tongue and the softness of his stolen, ghostly touches. These dreams were not pleasurable; they only aroused the sense of my painful state. Sometimes, between our dreamed kisses, Daniel would suddenly leave me with a cold word or gesture. In the morning I would wake up faithless and empty – and with substantial messes in the "real world" needing to be faced.

Like the large, charred spot – about 3 feet in diameter – in my backyard beside the porch, where Rod (who was supposedly "looking after" my son and my house in my absence) had used lighter fluid to set a fire. Ryan's sweater now had a burn-hole in the sleeve from a wayward ember. There were several soot smudges on the ceiling in the living room, and a tall wooden chest of drawers which had belonged to my father now had a charcoal top corner. And Rod had left his mark in other ways too. Every lavender towel I owned was bleach-splattered. All the surfaces in my kitchen were coated in a film of stir-fry smoke. The motherboard in my dead father's computer fried when Rod  installed incompatible memory. The edge of my new stove was chipped.

Rod had also kept Ryan's cell phone with him most of the time, using it to call people in Colorado. But what disturbed me most was the money that he stole. He took my son's two-dollar-bill collection, totaling twelve dollars. One of the bills had been inscribed with a "Happy Birthday" note from Ryan's grandmother – his father's mother. When I learned of this I confronted Lily immediately.

"Now I know why Rod asked me to loan him some two-dollar-bills today," she said. "I'm so sorry!"

"Seriously!" I said, "What kind of person steals money from a child? A freeloading asshole, that's who. How about someone who steals from a child, and then doesn't even try to hide it?"

"I'm trying to get him to use this time for rehab and reintegration into the working class, not a freeloading opportunity."

"He's a psychopath," I said, "and you're putting your home, your life, and your children's lives in jeopardy." I pulled no punches. I was afraid.

Further intensifying the ache during that first week home, Daniel's Internet connection was down. "I must have forgotten a payment," he said. The Internet connection wouldn't be restored for another week. This left texting as our sole means of communication, forcing us to cloak our sorrow in double entendre messages of 160 characters or less. Worse still, by the week's end Daniel would be completely off the grid on a farm outside [Billund], shooting the first scenes of his new film debut as leading man. It would be a long weekend, with no texting and no email for three full days. His Internet connection would be restored by the time he returned.

I was also torn up about Lily. We had been having ridiculous arguments about Rod since my return. He was now living with her and her three kids, two of whom depended on state medical coverage for crucial medications – coverage eligibility which Rod's presence in the household could jeopardize. Lily would yell, cajole, and finger-wag, but her mothering, trusting nature wouldn't let her officially kicking Rod out of the house straightaway. I saw a disastrous, nuclear shit-storm on the horizon, with Rod at its center. Lily held out hope for some kind of reconditioning.

All of these disastrous problems worked their way into my mind, churning up new questions, doubts, and anxieties. Why had I left Ryan unprotected with Rod, relying solely on Lily's recommendation, in order to spend two blissful weeks away with another man who Lily had enthusiastically introduced me to? Now that I had actually traveled the distance between my lover and my bed, what was the true cost of the promises we'd made? And to make matters worse, Daniel began to throw himself more and more into his preparations for his impending film-shoot, returning my texts only after increasingly long delays. Not wanting to intrude, I kept my own messages as short, sweet, and infrequent as possible. But it wasn't easy. I felt fissures forming.

And that's when I received an email from my grandmother inviting me to join her for Thanksgiving dinner. I felt my heart splinter. Thanksgiving. When it rains it pours.

My father had stopped breathing in his sleep on a Thanksgiving morning three years earlier. And with each Thanksgiving that followed, my memories of the time leading up to his death would inevitably come flooding back. He'd had severe [sleep apnea], and I knew his life was threatened by it, but he couldn't afford the expensive medical apparatus which would keep his windpipe open while he slept. And no private or government insurance program would offer him the financial assistance he needed.

I could see the toll which his disrupted sleep took on him – how irritable, groggy, and forgetful he was becoming, making more and more careless mistakes at his job, He fell asleep behind the wheel more than once. And I remember begging him to borrow money from his mother – a former real estate agent and restaurant owner who now owned and lived in a lucrative four-story stone house in the [Lloyd District]. His response was exasperating.

"I've already asked her. She 'doesn't have the funds'..."

We both knew it wasn't true. My grandmother could afford to help.

But she didn't, and now the Thanksgiving holiday has become a grim anniversary, bringing with it, year after year, the unbearable image of my Pops gasping for his last breaths. And as the week following my return from Denmark worked its way towards another Thanksgiving, thoughts about my father and my grandmother mingled with my anxieties over Rod and Daniel in my dreams. My nights were brutal, my emotional state crumbling.

On the night before Thanksgiving, I dreamed surreal dreams in which I sat across from my grandmother at her kitchen table, plates of food and incrimination steaming between us. I wanted to confront her with my father's death, forcing her to admit that she'd denied him the means to stay alive. I would do it maliciously – brutal enough to strip her bare of excuses, covering her with a [bruise] the shape of redemption. I wanted to deprive her of the same breaths she'd deprived her son of. And when I woke up that Thanksgiving morning – on the third anniversary of my Pops' death – I was so exhausted and shaken that my body refused to sit up, sloshing the adrenaline-laced acids which boiled inside my gut.

I was desperate to reach out to the one person who I knew could understand my sadness, wanting so badly to hear the rumble of my partner's voice telling me that everything would be fine. Just hearing the breath from my lover's mouth would make all the difference! But Daniel's Internet was still down, and he was leaving for his shoot the following day. Still lying prone and queasy, I grabbed my cell phone from the small table beside my bed and sent a text Daniel: "I'm sad."

I spent the next few hours morphing between an inconsolable mess in my room and an apron-wearing mother cooking a Thanksgiving dinner. Mine was Scandinavian-influenced meal, with crispy spiral-cut ham and caramelized small white potatoes. I was also making a from-scratch pumpkin pie. But I fooled no one. Ryan caught on immediately, avoiding me and my misery until the food was ready, then eating quickly in thick silence. I couldn't take bites of food small enough without  gagging.

Everything hurt – my mind, body, and spirit. I could not escape the darkness of my mood; it seeped into everything. I sent Daniel another text, about six hours after the first one. "It's the anniversary of my father's death. I'm so sad." I began to hate, in earnest, the [system] of communications our relationship had to rely on. Email, text messaging, postal mail, the web cam – all of it was a dismal failure now that I'd experienced the real thing. In my bottomless grief I lost all sense of allegiance to technology, to the intricate nature of love, to the belief that Daniel could be true to his promise to do whatever it took to bring us together again.

At about midnight, Danish time, I sent an email to Daniel, knowing that I was sending it, for now, into a void – Daniel wouldn't be able to read the message until he'd returned from his shoot in a few days. If the curt subject line of "You are not too busy" wasn't bitchy enough, the message's body made me all out cunty: "Didn't we already fucking go over this?"

Like an ironic, formula plot twist in a TV show, a text from Daniel appeared within minutes. "Sorry I've been away. I'm super busy, but I'm here now, baby. Talk to me"

Just seeing these words set loose a watershed of sobs. My fatalistic heart could see no end to the waves of challenges to overcome. "I'm so sad! I miss my dad, I miss you, I miss DK. I miss us together."

And then I followed that message with another one, in rapid succession.

"Maybe we can't sustain this medium. It's so hard to be separated." I was [clutching at straws], hoping to solicit kindness and understanding from my very busy, very Viking boyfriend.

"We can endure. I have faith. We have a plan," Daniel texted back. It was exactly what I needed to hear. How did he always know?

We exchanged several messages for a long time. I confessed my struggles with piercing sadness, and my worries about Lily. Daniel comforted me, just as hoped he would, assuring me of his love in long narratives which came through in chunks of 3 or 4 messages.

When he finally retired for the night I began to labor on another email, subject line: "You're a wise mo' fo'". This email was an obvious, desperate attempt to recant the pissed-off subject-heading I'd emailed Daniel earlier. It's an uncomfortable narrative of [excuses]. In it blame my emotional sensitivities, my menstrual period, and the stress of my life. I do not mention my grandmother – Daniel never heard of the reasons behind my refusal to see or talk to her anymore. The ass-kissing email embarrasses me when I read it today, but at the time I had to write it. I ended it with:

"...Of course, this whole email is for me, not you; you don't need to hear any of this because you love me no matter what. But you understand why I had to write it. I love you, honey.

Your Number One Fan,
<3 Shell"

Three days later a 6:30am text message from Daniel woke me up. "Filming is done. I'm on the bus, already half-way home. I miss you so much!" I had never received a text from Daniel so early in the morning. I stayed under the covers for another hour, then propped myself up against my pillows, sipping water as I waited for my laptop to boot up. I loaded the instant message application. And Daniel was already there, connected, waiting for me.

Me: Hello my lover
Daniel: hey babe
hey lovely
hi beautiful
Me: =) betcha have a bunch of email and stuff to sort thru right now, hm?
Daniel: yes tell me about it
damn
and heavy eyes are pondering closure
Me: well I'm just working on the laptop. ah. so no chatting today?
Daniel: have a bunch to do - prepare for tomorrow and write emails - just got a tip about a commercial for a real estate agence running for 2 years - 100.000 kr
but we can chat for a while
love
though I'm in a weird mood
Me: sounds like youre really busy
Daniel: nah
priorities straight
you first
sweetheart
Me: tell me about your mood?
Daniel: weird mood, worked a whole weekend as another person, hard to. and now I'm just beat and tired and shit, cause resurfacing is hard.
Me: Damn you know I understand that disoriented feeling
Sending belly rubs...
Daniel: thank you babe
got me smokes and a glass of red - chillin
before WORK
BOB SAGET!!
Me: being an actor isn't easy, if you're a good one who's sincere in doing his best (YOU). I hope your insides become your own again very soon. You feel good about your work, you deserve to take it easy before you move on to that other 'work' you have to do to pay the pills.
and by take it easy I of course mean wine, cigs and your loving Shell
Daniel: of course, you already know the way I work, and becoming another is difficult, but with this character I've many things in common
or at least had many things in common - not very nice things
hard to get rid of again
Me: revisiting that 'dark place' is a theme I know well.
*holding your hand*
David: yeah, need to get my act together - heehee. How're things over there?
Me: Very good, the same, very different!
Hahaha
Had brunch with Becca and hubbie on Saturday
Saw my filmmaker friend who confirmed he'd be honored to work with you
Daniel: really?
Me: Oh hells yeah!
He and I go waaaaaay back and is a brilliant storyteller. Its a done deal.
Daniel: Søren insists on seeing some of his work...
Me: Sure, what does he want to see?
David: just some clips I think, what's he done, you know
Me: Okay
I'll make it happen
Daniel: great - you're MY girl
you make things happen
I love that
Me: Certainly helpful to have a girl like me in your life, only when I'm not a big ol' pile of steaming emotional dog poo.
That's when I can't make things happen and need your support.
And poof there it is.
Daniel: I'm here for you
You are loved darling
Me: =)
I'll be sending you my story research tonight prbly
Daniel: fantastic - looking forward to it babe. I'm done with the synopsis. Now I need to review it and maybe put in some ekstra thrills
Me: some heart-thumping moments!
later today is lunch and a museum and more pie baking
I've made a pumpkin pie from scratch, and by that I mean I baked a pumpkin and made the crust and everything
Daniel: what of Ryan's grades?

I remember happiness spread throughout me when Daniel asked about Ryan's grades. The question spotlighted our partnership, our closeness, our intimate familiarity. Ryan and Daniel were friends, and free to communicate on their own. Letting a relationship exist between them was proof of my trust in my own relationship with Daniel.

Me: ah the grades...
firstly this is an alternative school he's attending and there arent grades, just below expectations, meets expectations, exceeds expectations
Daniel: ok
Me: but if he did he'd be getting Fs and Ds across the board.
what burns me the most is that often he does the work and the doesnt turn it in! WTF?
And again he said he'd try
So its been really difficult to be nice to him sometimes
Daniel: some people just aren't made for schoolwork - they become carpenters, masons or whatever - manual work you know - but this sounds like he's just being a lazy fuck (pardon me, no insult intended) and he needs to know - really NEEDS to know what'll become of him if he doesn't get it together. He can't spend his life in front of the pc and just expect things to come to him.
Do you want me to talk to him or something? Think he'll respect me less afterwards? I realise this isn't up to me, but if there's anything I can do...you know
Me: He IS a lazy fuck. Of course you may talk to him, my goodness yes. Respect you less? Can't be less than he respects me or himself. You are very sweet to offer, I appreciate it.
Daniel: sure
I will
when I get a chance
Me: of course....speaking of children....I got the most perfect book (in English) for your baby girl
for christmas
called [Walter the Farting Dog]
Daniel: awwww
great - you really shouldn't have
Me: wtf?
Daniel: haha
Me: you will need to make all the right fart noises when you read it to her
Daniel: hahahahaaaa
love it already
Me: does Clive wear hoodies?
Daniel: YES
he looooooves hoodies
that and hats - are his fav things
Me: perfect! I'm getting him an [Enjoy St. Johns] one
You know, from my neighborhood St. Johns
Daniel: he'll love it
Me: I'm getting you....NOT TELLING
Daniel: pretty please
Me: hells no
Daniel: fuk
Me: didja think I would sucka?
Daniel: nah
I have a couple of idea for yours
Me: which I demand you tell me about
right NOW
Daniel: whaddya think - nr. 1 or 2
Me: numbers 1 AND 2
Daniel: hehhe
right
Me: I deserve it alllllll
Daniel: you do toooo
Me: How do you look today? What are you wearing?
Daniel: jeans, white shirt and Armani sweater
Me: which sweater is that?
Daniel: moved down my beard
green one
Me: ah, how does one move his beard??
Daniel: mowed
sorry
my bad
Me: yer nekkid again?
Daniel: nope
stubbles
Me: so manly you are. i was thinking your beard would make my face red but it was so lovely to touch
Daniel: not very soft I think
coarse
Me: nah, suprisingly not for my sensitive skin. I love touching your face, looking at it is wonderful too. But what's inside you is the most beautiful part of all.
Daniel: thank you sweetpea - likewise
Me: kisses baby
Daniel: thats what matters
Me: bonus that you make me very wet
Daniel: ha
yes I do
And you stay wet
Me: that's new I think for me
helpful in accommodating your large cock
and tight to keep you inside
Daniel: right you are
sweetr
Me: snookums
Daniel: Oh my God I'm reading the new Michael Crichton - fucking awesome Shell
NEXT
you remind me of a man
Me: er, thats KINDA close to the man-on-man action I dream about...
Daniel: you're supposed to say what man
you remind me of a man
Me: what motherfucking man?
Daniel: the man of power
Me: what motherfucking man of power?
Daniel: no - what power
the man of power
Me: what motherfucking power?
Daniel: the power of hoodoo
Me: what motherfucking hoodoo (I'm gonna regret this I know it)
Daniel: just hoodoo
the power of hoodoo
Me: what hoodoo????
Daniel: just hoodoo
the power of hoodoo
Me: hoodoo?
Daniel: you do
Me: ha
Daniel: (do What)
Me: do what?
Daniel: remind me of a man
(what man)
the man of power
(what power)
the power of hoodoo
Me: hoodoo?
Daniel: you do
Me: do what?
Daniel: remind me of a man
Me: what man?
Daniel: hahahahaaaa
the man of power
hehehe
Me: what power?
Daniel: and so forth
Me: and so on
Daniel: point is - this is an african grey parrot genemodified that can talk - and talks and talks
the book is brilliant darling - have you red more of State of Fear?
Me: yep, almost half way
Daniel: great - and?

What I really thought: "I find Michael Crichton's [State of Fear] to be a formulated doomsday drama with a confusing muddle of typical characters, none of which I cared about, who interacted with each other in various, exotic, well-described locales – including Århus, of all places. I'd rather read the existentialists O'Connor, Kundera, or [Auster]. And Anaïs. Always Anaïs Nin, who's lyrical understanding of the feminine need to love completely in the moment." But instead, to placate my man, I said:

Me: I greatly respect those who can write stories this complex and still keep engagement
Daniel: YES
Me: makes my promise to you daunting
Daniel: hehehe
what?
Me: to write my story in a years time
it's part of our master plan, remember?
Daniel: oh, yes
please do
it's exciting isn't it?
Me: it is. and brutal too, death sells doesnt it?
Daniel: definitely
and intrigue
and mystery
and eroticism
Me: well I know I can write eroticism, not sure about intrigue and mystery.
Daniel: sure you can baby
Me: my life story is full of things like what it feels like to eat things you grow yourself
or live through horrible heartaches.
You know, life.
Daniel: yeah
Me: Lily just called, she's coming by to get the rest of Rod's shit
Daniel: what's the story baby glory
Me: I forget what ive told you already
Daniel: nothing really.
Me: yes im sure I did
Where I am now with her is complete irritation with her complaining about the crap he's done to her since living in her house.
She tells me about their fights and how he talks shit about me, and her defending remarks...and I'm finding out more details of what he did while living here. Makes me angry with her for knowing about some of it and not telling me. Yes, I'm in Denmark with you, but at least she could have confided in Becca. He set a fire in my yard!
Daniel: I'm sure Lily wouldn't do this on purpose
Me: do what on purpose? she trusts too much
I dont trust her judgment in people
she thinks this guy can be 'rehabilitated'

Five minutes passed as Daniel typed – and retyped – a reply. The blood cursing through me turned ice and increased mass and flow. I craved alcohol to brace myself. Was he checking his email? Would he bring it up? Or, were we about to argue about Lily...again?

Daniel: she's a good person Shell, and she means no harm. Her judgment of people can hardly make you angry with her. this Rod character is far out, and she knows it - it's out of a good heart she wants to help him - whether or not she will succeed is besides the point. Rod is an asshole, but I think all people can be helped in some way or another. Let your anger blaze against him for the things he's done. she can't be held responsible for the things he's done.
Be mad at her for not telling you about the things he's done yes, but if you think about it - she's invited him there to get another life in good faith.
Her judgment of people is off yes - or at least her judgment of him
Me: It's that my opinion of her judgment, trusting in it, is fractured.
Who she says is a good person isn't a gold seal of approval anymore.
I know people can change. I have changed, you have changed. People change, yes!
But this is different.
Daniel: 'Who she says is a good person isn't a gold seal of approval anymore' - from one incident or have there been others?
Me: What I'm saying is that I gave you access to me based on her approval rating. I would never have been so open with a total stranger if she hadn't.
I've been blindly assuming her opinions are stellar because I love her so much, but now I see that we are very different in who we give access to.
Daniel: she was wrong about him
nobody could have predicted he'd be so irresponsible
or a thief
and a liar
people like that have a name - psychopaths
and they never show before you see them
Me: Okay, but there HAVE been other incidences
she did the same thing with Jess

When the man Lily had loved and followed to Portland from Texas by way of Corvallis, Oregon, left her it shocked everyone but me. I had warned Lily. This woman who Jess left her for worked in the same office as we did. I had watched this woman lure men from the comforts of home, consume them, and then toss them back into the reality of their situation. The strength of the man's character was irrelevant. But Lily took my caution as hyperbole, believing instead that even whores deserved her friendship and understanding.

Eventually the workplace "friend" set her sights on Jess, the father figure to Lily's children, and soon the new couple moved far away, taking with them half of Lily's household income and leaving hearts and a family in ruins.

Daniel: course she did
and regretted it
look at it from her perspective - she'll learn from this
I WAS LIKE JESS
dammit
Me: Honey, I know
Daniel: so
cut her some slack
Me: What I'm trying to say is that she and I have different systems of how much we get to know someone, and what qualifies as "knowing someone." She's much more trusting than I, and I need to remember to take her approval and trust of someone with a grain of salt in the future.
Daniel: sure
I feel really sorry for Lily baby, that's the truth. I feel you're right about your allegations (or whatever) and support you of course.
L's been through a lot and having a storm inside you can really compromise your judgment. She's made a bad choice and she has to deal with it. I agree.
But still I really feel that she's the one being screwed here again.
You're the medium through which she's being screwed. Know what I mean?
You were being used for personal benefits - and that's bad enough in itself - and you have the right to be steaming about that.
but please, don't let it out on L
sorry to be so defensive about her
you know I love you
and agree with you
I'm behind you
I got your 6
Me: My 6 what?
Daniel: jetfighter language
your back
I got you covered sweetness
Me: lol
Listen baby
Daniel: yes
I'm all ears
Me: I love her deeply, but I'm afraid.
she has decided to keep this person in her life and decline my offer to ship him back to Colorado...more than once. I have cried at her, begging her to get rid of him because I am afraid of what he is capable of, and in the meantime he's still watching her kids.
he's resenting it a lot.
She doesn't get my freak out, and for that I am angry with her judgment about him and her complaining about the things he does in her house when I've offered to solve the problem is frustrating!
She describes these screaming matches they have, the things he says. This guy can't even maintain eye contact while he's telling her that I'm a liar, that Lily's not what she claimed to be, that he has rights (??)
and he wants to know what she's doing when she goes out.
Daniel: God
Me: Rod has crawled into bed with her at night, ignored her when told to get off her laptop, has rearranged her stuff...etc. I really am scared for her.
I've said this before, and you've poo-pooed it. No one is taking me seriously.
He offered her prescription drug-medicated daughter over the counter drugs for fuck's sake! He's squandering food, leaving messes, and interfering with her personal life.
But these angry fights I'm having to listen to, to be supportive and loving friend that I continue to be, are making me frustrated and pissed.
Daniel: Jesus!
Me: It's like she can't recognize what a dangerous person he is because she's too busy being supportive of his "new chance at life"
Fuck
Daniel: I have to talk to her
Me: You should
Please!
I don't know what else to say
Daniel: think she'll listen to me?
Me: I hope so.
do you understand why I am so angry now?
Daniel: yes babe
she's scared
Me: yes, but wont admit it
Daniel: course not
Me: I just realized something
In the last week I've used you for a sadness punching bag, you've agreed to talk to my kid, and try your luck getting Lily to see what's really happening...
Daniel: yes?
Me: Isnt there something I can help you with? Do you wanna talk about something thats bothering you? Can I please make your life a bit easier?
Maybe I should just let you go so you can get to work?
Daniel: I'd rather do this than work - you know how it is baby. You're doing plenty - I've learned over the years that I'm an accommodating guy. Usually I think my own problems are too trivial to mention, and I build them up inside and ignore them until I have the energy to deal with them - unlike you. I'm alright at the moment - just need to focus on getting back to the new Daniel.
Me: do you find that these problems you're not dealing with get unnecessarily huge in the meantime?
Daniel: nah
really they're jokes
selfinflicted jokes
Me: you and I are so different and so similar.
makes for an interesting life ahead of us, hm?
Daniel: yes - I like to think so
Me: I can get bored, but I don't think that's possible with you =)
Daniel: Are you calling me not boring?
Me: thats right, I am infinitely interested in who you are, and who I am in love with you. Just watching what I do and feel is entertaining of sorts
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
youre just gonna have to take my kisses and hugs
Daniel: just got me a cheese and chicken sandwich - and a lot of hugs and kisses
Me: eggselent!
hey, you missing a pair of undies?
black hugo boss?
Daniel: hehehe
you have them?
Me: yep, sorry. were in the bag of dirty clothes I brought home. shall I send them back with the xmas gifts next month?
Daniel: sure, that'd be fine - thief
Me: purely accidental I SWEAR =)
Hey! I'm almost outta remoulade
Daniel: jesus that's not good - and the boy want's more [chokolate wafers]
Me: howd you know that? yes he does. I knew he'd love em
did he IM you?
Daniel: yes and wrote me a message on [deviantArt]
Me: oh GOOD LORD
Daniel: sounds delicious
do you want more remoulade?
Me: YES!!
thank you
Daniel: sure babe
now I think work is in order
Me: okay dokay
was nice to chat with you again, babe. I missed you tons!
Daniel: yes - always makes the day
Me: would like to hear your voice and see your face.
can we do that really soon?
Daniel: yes definitely
lets schedule soon, huh?
Me: yes, dont be an IM stranger lover!
Ease into the comfort of familiarity, snuggle with my nightie.
Give me kisses, please...
Daniel: SMOOOCH
kiss kiss kiss
Me: Youre a GREAT bf, have a fine, peaceful night.
And leave your demons in the past where they belong.
SMOOCH
Daniel: can't promise that babe - I need them to remind me

Never miss a segment by subscribing to this story by [web feed] or [email]. If you enjoy The Miracle in July, please consider making a [donation] to help the author follow her bliss.

The Miracle in July is the work of author Michelle Anderson.