Ten sentences

One

I was listening to Maggie Rogers and folding clothes.

Two

I was listening to Maggie Rogers, folding clothes, and thinking about how close Z and I had been lately. It was the end of winter and already the harsh Texas sun was replacing the gray skies.

Three

I was listening to Maggie Rogers, folding clothes, and thinking about how close Z and I had been recently. It was the end of winter: the gray skies giving way to an already harsh Texas sun. He was nearing the end of his year and I was just starting mine and it felt strange to chart our lives together like that.

Four

I was listening to Maggie Rogers, folding clothes, and thinking about how close Z and I had been recently. It was the end of winter: the gray skies giving way to an already harsh Texas sun. He was nearing the end of his year and I was just starting mine. It felt strange to plot our lives together like that; the stress of his work nearing its completion just as mine kicked back into gear.

Five

I was listening to Maggie Rogers, folding clothes, and thinking about how close Z and I had been recently. It was the end of winter: the gray skies giving way to an already harsh Texas sun. He was nearing the end of his year and I was just starting mine. It felt strange to plot our lives together like that; the stress of his work nearing its completion just as mine kicked back into gear. Still this was our natural rhythm—the uneasy peace we had come to after years of living together.

Six

I was listening to Maggie Rogers, folding clothes, and thinking about how close Z and I had been recently. It was the end of winter: the gray skies giving way to an already harsh Texas sun. He was nearing the end of his year and I was just starting mine. It felt strange to plot our lives together like that; the stress of his work nearing its completion just as mine kicked back into gear. Still this was our natural rhythm—the uneasy peace we had come to after years of living together.

In a weeks’s time he would be gone: traveling somewhere for a week to learn more about his profession and leaving me alone to manage our often unruly dog.

Seven

I was listening to Maggie Rogers, folding clothes, and thinking about how close Z and I had been recently. It was the end of winter: the gray skies giving way to an already harsh Texas sun. He was nearing the end of his year and I was just starting mine. It felt strange to plot our lives together like that; the stress of his work nearing its completion just as mine kicked back into gear. Still this was our natural rhythm—the uneasy peace we had come to after years of living together.

In a week he would be gone: traveling to Colorado for a week for a work conference and leaving me alone with our often unruly dog. I didn’t mind (though I pretended I did) I had grown too attached to him, craving the small joy of his fuzzy frame curled next to me at night.

Eight

I was listening to Maggie Rogers, folding clothes, and thinking about how close Z and I had been recently. It was the end of winter: the gray skies giving way to an already harsh Texas sun. He was nearing the end of his year and I was just starting mine. It felt strange to plot our lives together like that; the stress of his work nearing its completion just as mine kicked back into gear. Still this was our natural rhythm—the uneasy peace we had come to after years of living together.

In a week he would be gone: traveling to Colorado for a work conference and leaving me alone with our unruly dog. I didn’t mind (though I pretended I did) I had grown attached to the small joy of his fuzzy fame curled next to me at night. Now I was listening to On + Off and obsessing over the lyric, “Take me to that place where you always go, When you're sleeping or your day takes you low, so low” and how easily it mapped into my therapy sessions.

Nine

I was listening to Maggie Rogers, folding clothes, and thinking about how close Z and I were. It was the end of winter; the gray skies giving way to an already bright and harsh Texas sun. Z was nearing the end of his work year and I was just starting mine. It felt strange to plot our lives together like this: the stress of his work nearing its completion just as mine kicked back into gear. Still, this was our natural rhythm—the uneasy peace we had come to after years of living together.

Listening to On + Off, I thought about how, in a week, he would be gone to Colorado for a work conference, leaving me alone with our unruly dog. I didn’t mind it (though I pretended I did). I had grown attached to the small joy of his fuzzy frame curled next to me at night, subtly rejecting Z’s attempts to retrain him to not sleep in our bed at night.

For a while I had been drowning and, in some perverse way, maybe that’s why I found myself obsessing over her lyrics of water and ice and rebirth and renewal.

Ten

I was folding clothes while listening to On + Off by Maggie Rogers and thinking about how close Z and I were. It was the end of winter; the gray skies giving way to a harsh Texas sun. I was just starting my work year and Z was nearing the end of his. It was strange to plot our lives together like this: the stress of his work reaching a crescendo just as the overture of mine kicked in. Still, this was our natural rhythm—the uneasy symphony we had come to after years of living together.

In a week he would travel to Colorado for a work conference, leaving me alone with our often unruly dog. I didn’t mind (though I pretended I did). I had grown attached to the small joy of his fuzzy frame curled next to me at night, subtly rejecting Z’s attempts to retrain him not to sleep in our bed at night.

I was drowning and so, in some perverse way, I found myself obsessing over lyrics about water and ice and rebirth and renewal. To tell the truth, it felt too conventional, but I guess sometimes conventions are fine.