Kitchen Sink


The faucet was broken.
It leaked, and it leaked, and it leaked, and for some reason, none of us thought to fix the thing.

You arrived at the apartment early one night. I wasn’t expecting you, our roommate was in the next room, and your entrance was more of an inconvenience than a pleasantry. I hadn’t tidied anything. The coffee table was just too far gone so I decided I was going to leave it until later, until right about the time you'd get off the bus. But there you were already, and with the time between you opening the front door and walking over to the couch I had only enough time to roll the exhaustion out of my writing wrist and not look half dead. You were in a good mood and for some reason, you always think you’re funnier when you’re in a good mood. I did not feel like being a joke that day.

You noticed the paper towels lining the sink and asked me why they were there. I told you that I’d already told you; it’s been leaking since Friday and you glanced at it. Then you went to our room. The thing just kept leaking, but you didn’t look at it anymore after that. My day was fine, by the way. Just in case you ever wondered.

I thought this was what I wanted. I really did. I thought the whole thing- moving in together, giving you the second chance, letting you love me and doing the same- I thought it would’ve made things better. Not just for you, but for me. I don’t know if it was you or if it was my fault for just getting bored, or if I just couldn’t stand to listen to the water leaking anymore but I think that was the day I realized the apartment felt less like home and more like a really bad stay on an acquaintance’s couch.

It’s really all just ironic. I spent two years of my life wondering where you’d gone and when you’d be coming back and if you had really meant to hurt me all of those times and if you were okay; but here you are now, back for good, and I can only worry about the kitchen sink.

I left two mornings later. We talked about it briefly, cordial and polite. You acted like it didn’t hurt but we both know it did.  I don’t blame you, either. We seconded everything to get our bags through the front door but here I was, letting us come full circle. Except I had no intention to start it again. Like last time.

I made sure to get the sink fixed before I left. Couldn’t have you dealing with that inconvenience on your own.

By Angelica Crisostomo
Photo from Tumblr

4 comments

  1. I'm reading this over and over...

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  2. fuck..............................

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  3. Your writing is so incredible, I love this piece so much

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