After breakfast, beijing walked into the kitchen holding her stomach, complaining that whatever i cooked made her way too gassy. she leaned over the counter trying to calm her stomach, and the farts started slipping out fast. in the middle of it, she looked back at me annoyed and told me to smell her farts since i was the one who made her this gassy in the first place. every time she shifted or tried to breathe through the stomach pain, another loud burst came out, and i stayed behind her taking everything she let go. she kept blaming me for her gassy morning while using my face as the spot to let it all out—frustrated, unbothered, and focused on getting her stomach to settle.
