Longing for the Unreachable
I'm six years older than Bernard Jackman, but he always smiles and says, "Lucky me. I got to marry you."
I think we will live happily ever after until a message pops up on his phone and shatters the illusion.
"Bernie, be honest. Who's better in bed, me or your wife?"
"Come on. That old hag smells like mothballs. She can't be compared to you!"
And yet, he still showers me with love. How can a man say he loves me while sleeping with another woman?
So, I tear off his mask and leave him.
"Bernard, it's not that I can't live without you! You're filthy, and I don't want you anymore! I can find another man just fine!"