† SINISTER PUBLICATIONS†

I broke my one cardinal rule: don’t date co-workers. But like a stupid dick for brains, I did exactly that. She wasn’t just a co-worker—she was my work neighbor. We were fighting for the same cause, sharing smoke and laughter after shifts, trading pieces of our broken lives like currency. She had this grin, small teeth flashing when the mask slipped, and I couldn’t pin down what it was about her. Older, beautiful, kind. And yeah—broken, just like me.

We partied as friends. That was all it was, until one night at a co-worker’s birthday party. I was knocking beers down like water; she was the driver, so no problemo. Then this seasoned drunk co-worker leans in and says, “I thought you guys were fucking.” Boom. That detonated something in me. I turned and looked at her. She looked back, and for the first time, I saw what I’d been blind to—the eyes, the wild smile. She hesitated, I chuckled, and suddenly I wasn’t innocent anymore.

The line got crossed. A butt slap, forbidden, reckless. She didn’t shut me down—she reciprocated. That was it. The spark lit, and we were off the ground. We started dating, and to me it felt like the best times of my life. I can’t say she felt the same, but I did. The problem was I was still wrecked inside—doing shadow work, self-mutilating, wrestling demons. She was grieving too, having lost her husband to covid not long before. So we ensnared each other in our brokenness, and neither of us was really free.

Over time I saw it—she wanted to mold me into the ghost of her dead husband. I’m not him. Never was, never will be. I thought I was there for her, but she kept picturing someone else when she looked at me. Then the real grind kicked in. I changed jobs. Twelve-hour shifts, seven days straight, no time to breathe. I was running on fumes, drinking again just to let the pressure out. She was asleep by 6 p.m. every night. I kept thinking, what if something happens? Where’s the support I thought I was giving her? She wasn’t there.

Then came the night. I was drunk, furious, dissecting every detail of us in my head. I texted her: we’re done. She didn’t answer. Next day regret hit like a freight train. I loved her—why the hell did I put her in that position? But when I tried to fix it, she brushed it off. “You need to live your life,” she said. That was her exit. Roundhouse kick to the nuts. Done.

So I made my bed and slept in it. Years passed. I cried, drank, died and resurrected more times than I can count. Highlander shit. And then—like a ghost she reappeared. Out of nowhere, at my job, as a new hire. And just as fast, she was gone. No explanation, no closure. Just the universe laughing in my face.

Some stains don’t ever wash out. And this one, I’ll carry until the day I die.

And the most fucked up thing? I told her shit I could never in a million lifetimes fix. Words that cut too deep, shit that stains permanently. So when she came back—out of nowhere—I stood there poised on the outside, but inside I was buzzing like a live wire.

Truth is, when we were together, I never showered her with gifts. I wasn’t the romantic type. That part of me had died long before her. I wasn’t the guy writing notes and buying flowers—I was the guy holding the line, showing up in the shadows, bleeding silently. And for years I’ve carried that like a curse, like I’m the worst piece of shit in human history. Because I loved her, but I fumbled her. I didn’t give her the version of love she probably wanted, and I hated myself for that.

But that’s just my view. Her actions, her decisions, her silences—they paint their own picture. And when she came back, she came back strong. Looking better, sexier, but also lonelier and broken in new ways. One day, when she was crushed by those same twelve-hour shifts, I told her, “Now you know how it feels.” And I meant it. She’s strong—no doubt about it. Stronger than I ever gave her credit for. But even strength can’t fix what was already broken between us.

I guess we were both already dead inside when we found each other. But only I can rebirth.

I would have loved you through life times.