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She thinks about them ten or twenty years in the future, and he kisses the crows feet by her eyes every night, not just when they’re drunk, not just trying to let her down easy. She eats another gummy worm and groans at the pain, then eats another. She can’t decide what’s more self deprecating: thinking about why she likes hurting herself with things that momentarily feel good or thinking about why Carmy doesn’t want her the way she wants him.
She wonders if they’re the same thing.
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Bookmark Notes:
HIGH SYDCARMY! IVE BEEN DREAMING OF IT