I stumbled home, a few drinks in. I thought about how I used to love. No, how hard I used love. I tried to find meaning between the small pores on our faces, my head inches from our picture hung on my fridge. The physical image meant nothing to me, but I stared at it more than once a day, because the apertures mattered. They represented every nuance of our partnership. What we never talked about. The erroneous assumptions we made of each other. The miscommunication. These notions fell into those holes, and so did I. Now I struggle climbing out.

Delvon T. Mattingly, who also goes by D. T. Mattingly, is an emerging fiction writer and a PhD student in epidemiology at the University of Michigan. He currently lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan with his two cats, Liam and Tsuki. Learn more about his work at http://delvonmattingly.com. He tweets here: @Delvonmattingly.

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1 Response to Pores

  1. Pingback: Pores – Delvon T. Mattingly

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