Fight Diary

Every time we fought, I wrote in the book I kept in the drawer by my bed.

At first, it had been an attempted diary that was mostly empty until the first fight I wrote about, an argument about my apparent inability to plan ahead.

I would write down what the fights were about, and if I won, which was rare, and any major important things that were said.

It allowed me to count, and to see that we were fighting less and less, which I took as a good thing.

Until I realised it was because she'd stopped caring.