On my favorite idea from “The Expanse”

It’s a rest stop on a busy highway in Maine.

I

sit

in a surprisingly clean bathroom stall

unable to breathe because

the question

the

request still remains

I knew my answer the second it was asked and yet I still asked for time.

I think I’m in shock from not the issue but at my acceptance of it.

I feel otherwise fine

I don’t even hear my hateful voice in my head tearing into me as a failure.

And my anxiety is from that audible absence.

A trap? A release? A pathway to indoctrination?

My love is still the same and what’s been missing between us died long ago.

Even if it’s a mistake

and the now intolerable interwebs

say that it most certainly is

I’m going

to give

My consent.

It’s what they deserve.

It’s what I deserve.

Ah, there’s that voice!