Page 26 - In Five Years

I want to put on sweatpants, per usual, but something tells me not to—not
tonight, not yet. If I were different, someone else—Bella, for example—I’d have
lingerie to wear. I’d have bought some this week. I’d put on a matching bra and
underwear and hover by the door. Fuck the Pad Thai. But then I probably

wouldn’t be engaged to David right now.
We’re not big drinkers, and the champagne and wine have gotten to both of

us. I edge myself farther onto the couch. I put my feet in David’s lap. He
squeezes the arch of my foot, kneading the tender place my heels are unkind to. I
feel the buzzing in my stomach move upward to my head, until my eyes are
being pulled closed like blinds. I yawn. Within a minute, I’m asleep.