temporary assurance

[passingpanacea]

Monday, August 3, 2026

My landlord called around 11:30am.

Goodmorning! I have the rent check. You’re home now?

I am home.

I hopped out of bed where I had been drinking coffee and scrolling and slid into some soft clothes and squishy sandals. A quick knock on the door of the apartment beneath mine and he appeared - big white hairless belly protruding from his unbuttoned short sleeved Hawaiian shirt, he did not smile.

Hello. His thick Polish accent was deep and warm. He had tears in his blue eyes behind his silver glasses. I just buried my brother.

I knew his brother had been sick. I actually bumped into him five minutes after he received the news last week. He described the funeral - three days of visitations back home in Warsaw, around six hundred members of the community came out to pay their respects to his brother, his baby brother, the youngest of the three siblings.

My mother is 87. She didn’t want to close the casket at the end. Horrible, horrible.

I stood with him in his doorway a while, listening. Eventually he had vented enough and said, “Okay. Thanks,” and closed the door.

I took the short staircase back to my apartment two at a time, shaking my head at his appearance and the tragedy of it all, my youngest brother’s face in the front of my mind.

I went to my closet and started sorting the pile of laundry in my basket. Switching into my boots, I lugged the two bags onto my shoulders and headed out onto the rainy front stoop. He was sitting in his light blue Subaru right out front. Spotting me he rolled down the window.

It’s raining. Get in.

I chucked the bags into his backseat and hopped into the passenger seat. The laundromat was just two blocks away and I didn’t need the ride, but he needed the company. We drove up and down one way streets until we finally made it to our destination. It took about twice as long as it would have for me to walk. I thanked him and he smiled a little, then.

I loaded the machines and Sam, the laundromat owner looked up from his phone and waved at me from the booth. I got cash from the ATM and asked him for change for a $20. I took the $10 in coins first and started putting them into a machine as he counted out the bills.

Wait! Wrong machine! I turned and looked at him with the third quarter halfway in its slot. We both looked back at the machine and I laughed and said no, I’ve got two today! He looked relieved and waved at me to proceed.

Setting a twenty minute timer on my phone, I walked to the coffee shop on the block between home and the mat - ordered a small drip and stood outside under their windowsill and lit an American Spirit.

[ruraltears]

[passingpanacea]

Sounds like you’re looking for any possible way you can be with him, even just for a while.

YES!!! HELP!!!

[passingpanacea]

I was in an examining room. Phil was in a blue collared shirt that was for some reason soaking wet and see-through and he had absolutely ripped abs. He was being gorgeous and gentle and sweet and loving.

C was in the corner with his ex, struggling with two huge, heavy suitcases and bickering. He was asking how we wanted to split the bill. Phil said, “She won’t be paying for anything. But I’ll give you what you want.”

C looked at me and smiled awkwardly, “Of course, I’m sorry.” His smile quickly disappeared as he whispered something to his ex. He fumbled his luggage out of the room dramatically, leaving her and hers to fend for themselves.

Phil quietly helped her carry it out the door. He turned to me when it closed and picked me up in a big hug - damp from his shirt but the cool felt nice. We kissed a lot, smiling into each others’ mouths.

It was a nice dream.

[passingpanacea]

I took a huge gulp from my 32oz deli container - Pellegrino and crushed ice instead of my usual tap and regular. I swallowed and immediately felt the slightly sticky presence of spit slide down my throat. He had been standing in front of my things just moments before and now I was sure he had done it - spat in my water.

When we first started talking, this was his signature - I can't kiss you, I can't fuck you, but I am going to be inside of you some way or another. After that we spat in each others' drinks daily. We watched each other drink from across the back bar with wild eyes, enjoying the taste and the feeling and the power and the nastiness. But now it felt mean - aggressive, sneaky, pointed. Because I told him we couldn't hook up anymore, because I told him we had to stop, because I told him I didn't want him, because I told him I needed freedom, because I told him I was not his. Now the spit was just spit.

I lowered the container and looked to the dining room - he was standing at table 341 taking an order, broad shoulders square, laughing too-loudly and making the guests smile. He must have felt me or have been waiting for his trap to be successful, because he looked up from his notepad and his eyes hit mine with so much anger and loathing that I could taste that, too. As his grin faded into a satisfied little line and I knew I hadn't been wrong.

I kept his eyes on mine and drank, swallowing several times before slamming the container back onto the shelf. As petty as it was, if he was going to toy with me then I was going to do the same. Back to square one? Fine. But I am not afraid of you and you can't hurt me like this. You can't have me and that's why you're angry. Because I know you still want me. And now you know I still want you.

[pinkblanc]

[rrondo]

[passingpanacea]

the bow and the belt

Eli's coming over to take a pregnancy test. The leaves have completely emerged from the tree outside my bedroom window and the light in here is finally perfect. I just resigned the lease for another year.

You don't have to be good at your hobbies.

I told him You can't yell at me into making me love you.

I told him What part of this is unbelievable? I've been repeating myself for months.

I told him You're right. I don't want you.

But maybe that part was a little untrue. I wish I could have my cake and eat it too. I wish I could keep all the good parts. The sexy parts. The love note parts. The dinner date parts. The cuddles parts. The park parts. The walk parts. The climbing over snow banks parts. The cooking together parts. The eye contact parts.

I wish I could kill all the fighting parts. The flicking parts. The begging parts. The pleading parts. The comparison parts. The claustrophobic parts. The fear parts. The breaking my bed parts. The breaking his heart parts.

I keep staring out my window wishing he was standing under it. Even though I asked him to stop showing up unannounced - now of course I miss it. I think he will probably completely ignore me now. He's been telling people it was all his decision - let him.

I want to tell him everything I do, every thought I have, every want I want, every need I need. I want to share with him again. I miss sharing with someone who actually was interested in all of it. I was interested in all of it. The tiniest minutia of his day. The tiniest curl on his perfect curly head. I was interested in all of it. How can one person encapsulate so many things good and so many things bad all at one time? How did I get so wound into him? How do I get out?

[passingpanacea]

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “How have you been?”

“Pretty angry,” I replied. “Pretty fucking pissed.”

“Well that’s a little rude,” he frowned, and then he said something else. I asked him to repeat himself once, twice, three times, but I couldn’t hear him over the hairdryer Kayty was suddenly blowing through my hair.

I swatted her away and asked him to meet me outside. He seemed sincere - wearing a face of his I had long forgotten - being gentle and actually wanting to talk to me.

We sat in the grass and it was warm, almost too warm. His stepmother was uncharacteristically smoking a cigarette nearby and the smell made me want one as well. But when he finally opened his mouth in one more attempt to explain what the fuck happened between us, I woke up.

[passingpanacea]

Learning how to voice discomfort out loud and stand up for myself even when it’s awkward.

Learning how to tell someone that it’s time for the to leave.

Learning how to accept that sometimes I like it and sometimes I don’t.

Learning how to take care of myself.

[passingpanacea]

I could hardly unlock the door because my hands were shaking so intensely. He stood on the other side - tall as ever, denim jacket, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, a coffee from my favorite shop in the other, fear and intention and a hunger in his eyes.

You're here.

I could barely speak. He launched into my apartment and put his arms around me so tightly, my arms on his shoulders, my hands finally, finally, in his curly brown hair.

Finally.

I think I said it out loud. I could feel his heart pounding as he rocked me back and forth. A wave of pins and needles started at the top of my head and went down my spine until it reached my toes. I almost gasped.

When we let go I quickly hopped up on the kitchen counter and popped a big purple grape in my mouth.

Tell me everything - from the beginning. The good, the ugly - even if it will hurt my feelings. I need to know it all.

And he did. He told me everything I needed to hear and some I wish I hadn't. We talked - for how long I could not say, time had ceased to exist the moment he arrived.

[bestiolin]

mertz

[joeinct]

RIP - Martin Parr - New Brighton, England, 1983-85

[passingpanacea]

I don’t want to ruin this man’s life but lord I want him to ruin mine. Just a little. I should really just cut it all off now before it gets even worse than it is already. It’s just an attention thing for me, I’m almost sure of it. Attention, personality, looks, humor, sex, work ethic, life views. Okay, so maybe not. But he’s off limits. HE IS NOT FOR ME. I am not the “other woman.” I can’t be. And he can’t leave her to be with me. That’s fucked and I don’t want that because I don’t want to be monogamous. Yet, at least. But that’s because I’m scared. Idk idk idk.

[passingpanacea]

Now we only speak through songs - posted songs on platforms that make them disappear. They disappear before we even fully hear them. They disappear before that one line hits deep in the pit of your (or my) stomach, before that one chord hits us (harder than heroin) in our aching blue veins.

Now we barely see each other for an hour or so a day. That hour was enough until it wasn't anymore - until pressing that number on the elevator made my finger go numb, until pushing the exit bar on the door felt too heavy, until walking away from the waving blue flags felt like a mistake, until I was counting the hours to come back and do it all again in reverse. Until I wanted more, more, more of you.

It all started so easily. You'd burst through the door, usually beside me and if not I would feel you from miles away. Hello, how are you, fine, and you, not as great, why, next, and so on. I would fill your shelves with fresh napkins and glasses - you would watch me and tell me about your day. I would clean your screen and your silverware and find any reason to stay there beside you, the only person in a room full of people. Get out of here, dimples. I don't want to. Then don't.

Later, you searched through my cupboards, not for glasses, but for bottles of pills, reasons to dislike me, little hints to convince you to leave. You never found them. You moved through my space, curly hair wild, eyes a little wilder as you watched me brushing my teeth, standing behind me in the mirror as if we had been doing it that way for years. You sat on my couch, on my beds - you laid back and stared at my ceiling and I watched you from the kitchen. I wondered what you were thinking, laying there, comfortable, smiling a little, knowing you shouldn't be so happy, knowing that you were so happy.

Now we only speak through songs.

[passingpanacea]

7:06 - he was on the corner of my coffee shop, curls bouncing as he looked left and right because he didn’t know where I would be coming from. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

Did you even sleep?!

Yeah but I needed a Gatorade.

Oh, sure.

It’s nice at this hour, actually.

I know. The sunrise turned the whole city red earlier… You’re insane.

Yeah, you thought you were crazy? You finally met your match.

He pulled me close and kissed me on the head. A new boundary that I allowed last night - or this morning, I guess. We had only left the bar about 5 hours ago. Because friends do that, right?

[passingpanacea]

bird watcher

Tall, weathered, gentle - the same lisp as EP. He kisses me on the shoulder but not really a kiss - more like just touching his lips to my shirt or my jacket or my neck, like he's too afraid to taste, like he's too afraid to make sounds.

He gives me compliments as if they are currency - but maybe that's my mind digging in too deep. He gives me compliments in the morning, in the afternoon, during the movie, dinner, but I don't understand them. They make me laugh because I can't believe they are genuine.

His hair is blonde on top - the only reason I believe his stories about surfing and swimming and being from the west. That, and his freckles and his forever-tan and the crinkles around his eyes.

He nods and says, "Hey, sup," and that's about as cool as he gets. Because even with that little tease of a head nod, he doesn't follow up with the same energy. But I do think he likes me, because he compliments me during dinner and in the morning, and during movies.

And I like him, but he watches birds. I can't stand them. And he's so positive. I'm so negative. And he's so tall, and he said we must look ridiculous walking around like that, together.

He couldn't leave in the morning without telling himself, "Okay, let's go, that's my cue."

Because I didn't have the strength to tell him either. And he didn't have the strength to just get equal with me. Birdwatching.