Tomorrow, I get to take my toothbrush to a boys house. He told me I should. He invited me to stay. He wants me to stay. He wants my teeth to be clean in the morning, because I will be there in the morning, and that’s something he wants. My toothbrush will be welcome in a boys bathroom.
22 years old, and I may finally be starting my first decent relationship. With toothbrushes, and a side of the bed that’s mine, mine, mine.