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A Meaningful Life - Fennel's Journal - No. 1

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Fennel Hudson

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“Nowhere in Matthew's league, their writing was execrable even if the sentiments were heartfelt. They were students at Middle Temple, and until she discovered they were all from wealthy families, Rosamund oft wonder how they would ever pass their studies if they continued to haunt the Phoenix instead of attending classes. "They've decided you're the only object worth studying, señora," said Filip one day. "They would be experts in all things Rosamund." "Better they spend time on other projects," she muttered, stealing a glance in their direction. "Something laudable upon which to bestow their inheritances." "They're noblemen's sons," Filip replied. "They've no need of those things ordinary people require to elevate or enlighten them. You're the sun around which they orbit." "Then they'd best beware lest they get burned.”

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“You drugged her?" " It was Tieren's order, " said Hastra, chastised. "He said she was mad and stubborn and no use to us dead." (...) "And what do you plan to do when she wakes up back?" Hastra shrank back. "Apologize?" Kell made an exasperated sound as Lila nuzzled - actually nuzzled - his shoulder. "I suggest," he snapped at the young man, "you think of something better. Like an escape route.”

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“The next Thursday she and Mike went to therapy even though there was nothing left to therapize. They went so they could talk calmly, so they could get through a conversation without anyone calling anyone else a Bunny fucker, so that Rhonda could help them work out logistics. Rhonda tried to appear neutral, but it was clear she was on Jane's side. Jane had won therapy. It was a consolation prize. Rhonda helped them figure out what the terms of their separation would be and asked if they wanted to file for legal separation. "Yes," Jane said. "I think we should talk about that," Mike said. "Yeah?" Jane said. "I think the ship has sailed on talking. Or the penis has sailed if you know what I mean.”

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“Travis," I whisper, like I'm trying to get his attention in a movie theater. He glances up at me, shifts his eyes to the side to check for supervillains or anyone else I might be wary of hearing me. "What?" he whispers back. Then he hands me the syrup. "What happened last night ..." I start to say, but I can't continue because I am choking on the awkward. "Was really awesome?" He finishes the sentence for me with a crooked smile and I die. Then he lowers his voice to a whisper again. "I thought so, too." "That's not what I was going to say." "Really?" he asks in mock surprise. "Because last night you seemed to think it was pretty awesome. That is, if all the orgasms were any indicator." Now I'm choking on my coffee and ready to hide my own face in my napkin. He's got a verifiable point, though. "Wait, you weren't faking it, were you? For my ego's sake?" I shake my head no. No, I wasn't faking it, and no, you are not teasing me about this. No, you are not. "Travis, I'm serious." "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm serious, too. Last night really was awesome.”

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Book:Loud is How I Love You
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