Sometimes there is this little noise in her head that twinkles and sparks like a voltmeter on acid. And when there is nothing more to do it becomes as loud as reverberating thoughts can get. Deafening.

“What’s that? What did you say? Oh sorry. It’s the voices in my head. You are gonna have to speak louder. Louder than you’ve ever spoken before. Louder even. It is although you are mumbling something inside the barrel of a gun as I pull the trigger.”

He gave up. Tommy gave up trying to tell her sweet nothings and innocent whispers. Tommy gave up telling her she was beautiful. He always had to struggle and fight and lose to the voices in her head. So there he remains, silent on the couch imagining what it would be like if the world was silent, if no one was there to retrieve and analyze the encrypted sound waves, if only he spoke louder than they.

She made him happy with her smile and her darting blue eyes. But white and blue are not enough. Not enough for him. Like frozen dinners. They are never enough to fill the gaping appetite building inside you.