Wonderful, Miserable

*door opens*

“Hello, my lov—”

“JESUS CHRIST! You scared the fucking life out of me! I didn’t hear you come in,”

“What are you doing?”

“Working,”

“Good. How are you feeling?”

“Alright,”

*pause*

“Really?”

“Nah, I just want to cry,”

“Nooo, don’t cry baby,”

“I won’t. I don’t have time. Got a 6 o’clock deadline,”

*silence*

“No wonder you’re so sad…”

“What?”

“Look at your books…”

“Okay…”

“The Woman Destroyed, The Pleasures of the Damned, The Terrible, The Unbearable something or other?”

“Yeah…”

“The Book of Disquiet, A Very Easy Death, Nausea…”

“They’re my fav—”

“A Season in Hell? Jesus Christ,”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,”

“Why not read stuff that’s more… I don’t know, cheerful?”

“Recommend a cheerful book to me and I’ll read it,”

“Well I can’t think of anything right now,”

“How could you? You haven’t read a book in 30 years. The last book you read was Lord of the Flies when you were at school,”

“It was actually Animal Farm,”

“Come back to me and criticise my book choices once you’ve got some of your own. Actually, don’t bother. My brain would turn The Very Hungry Caterpillar into an existential shitshow,”

“But don’t you get what I mean? If you read happy stuff maybe you’d be happier,”

“Darling, I promise you I’d be even more miserable if I didn’t have of all these wonderful, miserable books in my life,”

“Okay. Was just a thought,”

*silence*

*we stare at the books*

“What does maudits mean?”

“Cursed,”

“For fuck’s sake.”

*leaves room*

*pokes head around the door*

“What are we having for tea?”