You’re hurting me. I don’t blame you, of course, I could never blame you. However I can’t pretend I don’t hear the lies this household tells.
It’s 8am and you’re using me. You’re choking your skin with that tan coloured tar, manipulating your face into an impossible smile.
By midday you’ll have used me again, maybe more than once. This time you do it quickly, a subtle wink in my direction, perha...