ɴᴇᴡ ᴏᴄ 📌 ᴇʟɪᴢᴀ ᴍᴄᴋᴇɴᴢɪᴇ ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪʀᴏɴꜱ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꜰɪʀᴇ. ᴍʏ ᴛᴜʀɴ ɴᴏᴡ. ʀᴛ?

no matter how dark the night, morning always comes, and our journey begins anew.

https://t.co/hucTebjDXM

ɴᴇᴡ ᴏᴄ 📌 ᴇʟɪᴢᴀ ᴍᴄᴋᴇɴᴢɪᴇ ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪʀᴏɴꜱ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꜰɪʀᴇ. ᴍʏ ᴛᴜʀɴ ɴᴏᴡ. ʀᴛ?

Rise & shine, I guess

Then she exhaled, blowing the smoke out of the window. Outside, the world continued to turn. Headlines would soon be made. Messes to clean, hopefully. Inside, Eliza stood barefoot in the silence. The world didn’t need her tonight. God, how she wished it did.

Not with Ethan home. Not when others could smell it. Tonight? Tonight belonged to Eliza. The smoke filled her lungs like a lit fuse — steady, slow burning, inevitable. She held it for a few seconds. Letting it anchor her. +

Then flipped it open, its unmistakeable flick could be heard. The golden flame flared briefly against her cheek. The flame caught the tip of her cigarette. Inhale. Slow. Deliberate. Her first cigarette of the day. She didn’t smoke inside, not normally. +

Eliza reached for the slim silver case, her one vice hidden between appearances. She clicked it open and slid one of the cigarettes out, and tucked it between her lips. She picked up the zippo lighter, warm from memory not of use. +

It did not make a difference tonight. Eliza stood up slowly, the hem of her skirt caught on the arm of the chair. She walked barefoot across the marble floor until she reached the window. The city outside shimmered. Pulsed with a purpose. +

Blue hues drifted to the closed door of Ethan’s study. The door remained untouched. She didn’t dare enter his study — just as he respected her boundaries. Their marriage never allowed for curiosity, only functionality. He would be back, eventually. Or not. +

Now, the dark stopped asking. It was maddening. Her hands were used to being busy. She always had a mess to clean up. Another scandal to cover. There was always a fire to put out. Now, radio silence. Was it a calm before the storm? +

Her glass of bourbon watered down. She did not have plans of touching it. There were no calls today. No clients. No fires. No scandals. For someone like Eliza, silence was painful. It often lead to violence. She was the woman people ran to in the dark asking for help. +

wrinkled from the hours spent chasing order where none was needed. She hadn’t eaten that day. She wasn’t hungry. Not for food anyways. A cello sonata played low on the record player next to the window —one that sounded like a heartbreak drawn out over twenty minutes. +

She reorganized the books in the library. Dusted each spine off. All to keep from screaming. Now, Eliza sat curled up in an arm chair in the corner of the living room, barefoot, hair unpinned, her silk blouse now +

The silence was not comforting with Ethan away. It was lonely. Unbearable. Their house was too big when it was empty. Eliza cleaned the kitchen top to bottom, though it was already spotless. Wiped down the cabinets. The chairs wiped down. Oak dining table polished once more. +

Ethan was out of town on business, or so he said. He sent a short impersonal three word text message — 𝘍𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘉𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯. Eliza didn’t bother asking why. She did not care. She told herself she didn’t, anyways. The silence stretched on eerily without Ethan there. +

The sun long dipped below skyline, leaving only the glow of amber liquid in Eliza’s untouched bourbon glass. The lights of the city now twinkled through the darkness. People passed below, unassuming. +

When the Phone Stops Ringing

Is it Friday yet?

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* 𝑫𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝐕𝗨𝗞𝗢𝗩𝗜𝗖́ 𝐑𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗢, ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ YOU DON’T 𝑾𝐀𝐍𝐓 TO CROSS 𝐇𝐈𝐌. ⠀⠀ ⠀