obsession
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The woman in Jackson Square told me I had brought someone with me. I smiled. Of course I had. He had been with me for years. New Orleans was sweating through midnight, all perfume and rot beneath the balconies. Rain still glistened between the bricks. Somewhere down Chartres Street, a trumpet was playing something slow…
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I don’t normally wake up on an average Tuesday looking for trouble. Tuesday is usually reserved for coffee, ambition, and pretending emails don’t exist for another five minutes. But every once in a while… Pettluyah clocks in for her shift. She doesn’t work often. Only when absolutely necessary. Today she adjusted her sunglasses, smiled at…
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There are two people in this story. One is living their life. The other is watching it like it’s a full-time job they don’t get paid for. They don’t talk.They don’t interact.There’s no connection, no conversation, no invitation. Just observation. One minding their business…and the other minding that business like it belongs to them. Now…
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I hear your whispers. You talk about the nights we shared as if they were your best times—nights of laughter, fire, and the illusion that nothing could touch us. To you, they’re stories worth retelling. To me, they are scars that never closed. What you abandoned still lives inside me, no matter how much I’ve…
