Drabble: Puzzle Pieces

It was one of those days—everything went wrong. I want to rage, scream, break something. I’m ready to fly to pieces. My lover looks up, sees me in the doorway.

“Come here.” When I’ve crossed the room, I kneel. I’m at her feet, my head on her knees and her fingers in my hair before I realize I’m trembling.

“Tell me.” The command is soft.

Only then do I come unglued, spilling and breaking. But it’s okay, because she has always been a master puzzler, understanding how all the pieces fit together. My pieces are safe in her hands.

I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

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