An excerpt from “Trouble and Strife,” by Johanne Levesque
Soon, Warren says his goodbyes and promises to come again next month.
After he is gone and the dinner dishes are done, I occupy myself by making porridge for breakfast tomorrow morning. As I stir the porridge with a long heavy spoon in a black iron kettle, I think of Warren. I hate myself for the pleasure I get out of my revolving memories of our brief times together. My heart is in torment as the porridge boils and I stir it for an hour or so. Why didn’t I just stay away from him? In my dreams, he takes me in his arms, and when I wake, I realize that I had made a terrible mistake. I leave the porridge to stand on the back of the stove overnight and join Eugene in bed.
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