on that particular morning, alexa was grateful for fire. and hot things. like heating packs in toronto during january, and hot cocoa, and jackets, because she didn't like sweaters anymore. she sat in front of the fireplace, warming the cold venom that had been in her veins since she saw amelia and angelo kiss. she picked up her phone, hand trembling. so many unread texts. and missed calls. and notifications. and she took her phone, and she turned off. she contemplated throwing it in the fire. throwing the silverware and the grand piano, and the ralph lauren blankets.
but she stopped. because in a perfect world, she would set everything on fire. and lie there, burning. and she thought about the cycle. the cycle where she'd think about too many things at once, and her brain would feel full. and she would get dizzy, and fall onto the couch, her thoughts seeping into its fabric like ink staining paper. this always happened. even before angelo hurt her. and now it's worse. angelo would know what to do. he wouldn't leave her there. but he did. he left her. it was a suffocating feeling. she was choking on the words she wishes she could say. but when she opened her mouth... nothing. nothing came out.
