“Bland” – Nayana Nair

I heard her again complain about warm hands.A hand that remains warm, always warm, so warm that it almost becomes a fault, a flaw.That it turns into blame, into words that make no sense-“I could have loved him if he was not so good.Good is suspicious. Good is bland.Good is you when you try toContinue reading ““Bland” – Nayana Nair”