She sat in blackened silence, consuming stories. She drank show after show, book after book until plotlines blurred and names didn't matter. She read about sadness and joy and pain and suffering to fathom what they should feel like. The perfectly calculated jump cuts from scene to chapter left an uncomfortable weight in her gut, and in the glowing hour of 4 am, she would sigh, roll over to the cold side of the bed and clutch a pillow.

The days held emptiness in their sunlight. Unmade covers tugged at her to cocoon herself in bed and read. Read as if every page contained an antidote to some unknown poison she'd ingested. Drink stories as if the words and scenes were liquid so hot it could burn and brand her throat. Maybe if she studied how happy endings worked, she could manufacture one for herself.

 

 

© Maria Cristina de Vicente Capua. From Three Can Keep a Secret published by Night Parrot Press. Maria is a writer and researcher who loves the beauty and intricacy of words, she'd love to read the dictionary one day and teach her daughter (and everyone!) all about why reading different stories matters.