Ella James

One day, I'll hold a man's hand as we walk down a sidewalk. It won't be in Alabama.

One day, will he have a husband? What would that be like?
He makes me hate him.
I think of some faraway town. Maybe out near Denver. I think of their apartment, with its stupid little balcony that barely holds one chair, the way they’d hang a picture or a coat rack in the foyer. There might be a small coat closet, and they’d put their shoes there. I don’t want to think of DG’s future shoes in Denver.
I don’t want to think of anything.

I summon that feeling of being held by him almost every night, when I’m drifting off to sleep