Being loved by Jonathan was like being loved by a dung beetle. He was loyal, hard-working, and strong. He always provided for her, rolling balls of shit every day for over a decade to give her the life she deserved. On their tenth anniversary, he had proudly given her a tennis bracelet. She studied it circling her wrist as she swirled her Manhattan around the glass. The lights above the bar struck all the facets of the tiny diamonds, dazzling her. Jonathan’s love was just as literal, obvious, and lacking in nuance as the gift. He was so good to her, and yet she was so… bored. His earnestness and unfailing honesty were almost offensive sometimes, like a direct incrimination of her morals. She tried not to resent his kindnesses or his gentle, boring kisses… but these days, when he came close, she could smell the unmistakable whiff of shit.
alizahaskal
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