Prompt: Create a story, poem or any piece based on this metaphor: “a chapter of loathing”.
I rubbed my arms, trying to scrub out my goose bumps. My skin felt like the well-worn binding of a book. Binding worn so thin that it was translucent and tearing in places. Stripped bare.
I walk out of our apartment - soon to be just his apartment - for the last time, putting the final punctuation mark in our chapter of loathing. I put a period, closing the door softly behind me, because I don't have the strength left for an exclamation point.
Notes: I promise one of these prompt responses will be happy - I promise!