“Well, you’re Catholic,” she said. “Guilty feelings are just part of the package."
She had me there. I managed a smile. “Yeah, I suppose.” Her fingertips were warm on my face. I liked that closeness. I craved it more than blood. I was lonely. I couldn’t deny it. But it still felt wrong even while it filled that emptiness inside me.
“Do you want to stop?”
I lifted my face to look at hers. She had brown eyes set against tanned skin, straight pale hair. Different. Different was good. “I can’t answer that in one word,” I replied. “But no.”
Brain death, RIP
-
I think I forgot to post yesterday
Or some other times this week. It's Thursday already, right? My interview is tomorrow. I'm teetering between "you got this!" confidence…
-
Thinky Thoughts, 1.1
New beginning, new thinky thoughts. Turkey is resting in the brine. Pie is in the freezer. Sides are ready to be prepared. All is in readiness for…
-
Writing and Thoughts
I have been doing all my thinking on Twitter, for some reason, keeping myself to 140 characters when it seems I was ever unable to write less than…
- Post a new comment
- 4 comments
- Post a new comment
- 4 comments