The Ruin

Prose

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash

“But it’s just a shack, a ruin! Fuck, that’s not even a shack anymore. That’s a hole. Like something else ought to fill it. No need for more vacuums. Everyone abhors them, don’t they?”

You nodded your head, felt the stuffing in your ears, the great rejection of the tirade of loss. You so badly wanted to walk away. This conversation was already an absolute ruin for you.