When Snooping Gets Out Of Control

He’s done it before: left me alone in his apartment. But I haven’t done this—until now. It’s not as if these boxes haven’t always been filled with photographs; it’s not as if these leather notebooks weren’t always filled with his handwriting; it’s not as if the evidence hasn’t been lying around, out in the open, just begging for a little attention. But today the itch to explore is a little too itchy, and I guess our love is a little too, uh, lovely—so I’m not even waiting for him to leave. Soon, my heart is racing.

I can feel my neck pulsing, blood rushing to my face. I’m frozen, but not numb. I try to forget what I just saw and what I now know. But I’m shaking, and my limbs feel stiff and weighted. My feet are glued to the floor, my body to the chair. The secrets I’ve unleashed knock against my insides. Read more

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