I turned to N and said, ‘We are all broken aren’t we?’
N looked at me suspiciously. ‘No we are not.’
I was adamant to continue discussing this train of thought. She was not. She walked away throwing a pillow at me.
I sat down in front of the computer and typed fast. I didn’t want these thoughts to leave me. The writing would preserve it. The writing would change how that scene had ended. With her dismissal.
I wrote for several reasons. But sometimes I felt I wrote to rewrite endings. To change how I remember them. To change how I felt the ending made me feel. It was a wandering musing. I didn’t share it with N till later that night in bed. She would psychoanalyse this as she always did with my writing. I was positive and I waited to hear her remarks.
‘I know,’ she said. She kissed me and turned off the light.
There was no other way I would have written this story’s ending.