You can love someone and still not know how to be in the same room with them.
It starts small: when one person reaches with questions that feel like an interrogation, and the other retreats just to catch their breath. Two people who never ran out of love—only the vocabulary to touch without bruising each other.
The Chipped Mug follows what happens after that—the silent drive home, the dignified split, and the quiet that comes when the friction is finally over.
Except your body doesn’t know it’s over.
You’re still choosing your words carefully. Still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Still bracing for an impact that isn't coming.
