I used to love Christmas, now it just reminds me of hospitals.
We celebrated together, the two of us alone. He got me jewelry from Dolce & Gabbana, I got him that splatter-print Balenciaga sweater he wanted. We took a late walk through empty streets around Saint-Germain-des-Prés, I had too much wine and Absinthe and he carried me to bed and whispered French lullabies in my ear.
The thought of spending New Year's with his sister like he wants sickens me. I've managed to avoid her all autumn, he knows exactly how to make me feel guilty about it. S asked me to come to Florence, I want to go but don't know how to tell him. He looks so innocent asleep beside me, his warm pale skin almost glowing in the dark. It would be so easy to end it all.