Three Days

In a perfect world I'd celebrate at my brilliant selfishness. I'll take your husband by the throat and squeeze out his life, or throw him from a mountaintop. I'd explain it to you, so very clearly, that finally we could be together. Three days is an eternity, and it is a thing we've earned. You would ask me about the child inside you and, in a perfect world, I'd know exactly what to call it.

And that's what I love most about a perfect world. I would know every thing by its proper name. I would know what to call this plan, idea, what to call you, us, what to call myself. Because I vary so much now as it is. Monster. Man. Fool. In a perfect world I could have my cake and eat it, too. I could eat cake all day until I felt like throwing up.