I lied," I say still looking at his lips, he opens his eyes and gazes over at me.
"Uh oh," he whispers, not breaking eye contact. I am suddenly aware of his lingering stare. He looks at me everywhere, every inch, there was no hiding from it. His ga...
EZRA WAS WRONG. It was not fun. We'd been here all of three minutes and I was ready to shrivel up and die, in Ezra's defense, I felt like that most of the time.
I felt underdressed and uncomfortable in my own skin, worse than how it usually was. My jeans and cardigan outfit felt like pajamas in a room full of designer, diamonds and gold.
The room itself screamed luxury, there was a massive chandelier that was the same size as me and a grand piano with red solo cups and beer cans all over it, no coasters. I could only imagine how much that piano was. It was probably enough to pay my whole college tuition, and here it was being used as a beverage rest.
These people oozed privilege, they looked like they didn't know a day of struggle or stress, like everything was handed to them on a silver platter. This was Ezra's crowd, what did that say about him?
I was being to uptight and judgey, I know Ezra, I know Ezra is nothing like these people, he's different.
These people were paper, they only existed here and now, the paper people would lead successful lives, with unhappy marriages, in the suburbs, and have paper children, that would keep the cycle going. Sometimes I wanted to be a paper person.
Ezra looked down at me with a reassuring smile, our arms grazing each other as we walked through the billion dollar condo. He linked his pinky with mine, and I felt okay again.
After breakfast that morning, Ezra and I fell back asleep for a few hours then he left to get ready for therapy, I did the same.
Dr. V asked me about Ezra today. Dr. V asked me about Ezra today. Dr. V asked me about Ezra today.
