Member-only story
Melancholy | Lukewarm | Comfortable | Degeneracy
Tepid water is neither hot nor cold
She’s beginning to regret what she’s accepted
4 min readDec 22, 2022
I allow my eyes to drift open as I turn my head. I would rather they stay closed, trying to focus on something as the bed is rocking in the stagnant steady rhythm of his slow pace is sometimes nauseating. So I turn my head to the side and focus on the full glass of water on my nightstand.
I’m not avoiding his eyes; that would mean his eyes would be open. It would mean he’d seek mine or at least say something. It would mean there is a spark between us, that I’d have hope.
I blink back a tear as his pace starts to increase. I want to feel something more, something more than his steady pace. It’s about as exciting as a children’s…
