That was not my face being sad that you’d decided to blow your brains out. It was just me sad that anyone would.
If I’d though the former, I’d be trying to find you and send paramedics.
I woke up this morning next to the man that I love. I drank more coffee than I needed — which is the perfect amount. I packed my most loved and tattered backpack with my favorite kind of pens, paper and my laptop. And I went to my very first day of my very first writer’s workshop.
I was leaving our flat in North London on the way to school. I was thirteen and vaguely understood that on this day my father would be going to America. He was in the bathroom shaving with the door half ajar. He caught my image in the mirror and turned while wiping shaving cream…