I hadn’t noticed, really. It is sad to have to admit that, but it is true: a thin pale layer over whatever part of your — well, my — brain it is that controls everyday feelings had begun slowly blooming without my being aware of it, and by the time it did become apparent, it wasn’t possible to do much about it. That’s the nature of these things. It’s like those people you read about — well, I read about — who keep thinking that tomorrow they will pay their bills, watch their diet, walk their dog, fix their car, and then when they finally make the time to do all these well-intentioned things they find that it’s too late: the lights are off, metaphorically. They’re out of juice. They simply haven’t the fuel. It was like that, when I eventually noticed it: frost, now built up to the extent that simple blowing on it had no effect, all over my finer feelings. So, since I hadn’t a flamethrower or built-in defroster or the equivalent, I thought maybe I’d best take advantage of it instead, and that was the day I finally dropped the bomb through the mail slot at the old apartment.
Prompt courtesy of The Write Prompts.