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A very short story for my girlfriend
Lately I have been completely miserable because of the girl I love walking all over me. You only have my biased word for it but I have done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve being treated so badly. I'll spare you the details, I just came on here to post a very short story I wrote a few minutes ago to channel all the hurt and humiliation. She's never going to read it but some of you guys might like to:
Joan of Arc, I came knocking on your door. You were sick in bed. September.
I wish I could thank you, Joan of Arc, but the cold stole away my lungs. I would have chased after them but you were sick in bed, and I couldn't leave your door. I never cared much for lungs anyway. October.
Where's your grace, Joan of Arc? Where's the fire? There's no longer any guards at your door. But I'm here now. November.
I would have come sooner but I lost my legs somewhere in my sleep.
December.
January.
Where to now?
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