Guest
This is a difference between us: you desire what other people have, while I desire the things I used to have, or think I might have one day. Sometimes, with you, it’s stupid things. Like shoes. Or a bigger-screen TV, like the one we see at someone’s apartment. Or a share in the Hamptons, even though we can’t afford a share in the Hamptons and would hate it there. But every now and then I’m caught off guard. Like when we’re over at my cousin’s house and her kids are running everywhere. Her husband brings her coffee without her asking for it. They seem exhausted, but you can tell the exhaustion is worth it. And the kids — the kids are happy. They are so happy on such a base level that they don’t seem to understand that it’s possible to have anything other than a base level of happiness. I catch you desiring that. For your past? For your present? Your future? I have no idea. I never know what you really want, if I can give it to you, or if I’m already too late.
