Emotional Charity

The phone number written on my palm is that of a best-friend. Although it's a well-meant joke, I can't call it in the morning as it suggests. Her new boyfriend is there tonight and he'll be still be there in the morning. Mine? I left him so long ago, there is nothing but idealized tidbit memories of comfortable, easy Sunday mornings and hour-long back rubs left.

Until I was the last singleton of my girlfriends, I'd never noticed that couples retire earlier. The night was on, and so was the party. But, I know that they'd all stayed longer for me already; the one who goes home alone. Emotional charity.

I didn't think I'd feel like this and I'm hoping it will pass, but it's times like these that I really wish I had a boyfriend. Or, at least someone to pet me. Someone with smooth brown skin familiar to me. I can't even begin to think about the morning.