On his old, frail fingers, the smell of her private parts still lingered.
Slowly, we will both forget this. We’re not even a pair of lovers.
I was her savior. I tore her apart.
She wrote my name on the steamed-up window, and I fell in love.
The shadows just stayed there, looming in the corners of my bed.
I wish it would hurt, even if only for a while.
A collection of short stories exploring the complexities of love, sex, and relationships
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