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Brain death, RIP

In a vague attempt to get my brain working again, I drabble (plotlessly, of course, but that's how I roll):

“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.”

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framefolly
Feb. 27th, 2009 10:37 pm (UTC)
Ooo! Terrific final line!
wildrider
Feb. 28th, 2009 02:22 am (UTC)
Thanks!

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