” …and your writing? how is that going? ” terrible, she thought, staring at him. “my love, are you empty?” yes, she thought, staring at him.

for months now, she couldn’t sleep or write. for months now, she couldn’t think or eat. “do you want a drink? tell me what you’d like; what you’d love right now.” i’d love to fly.

for months now, she had been escaping.

running, not exercising.

touching herself, and not him.

not enough of him.  more than enough of her. she’s beautiful.

“i’ll start your shower. a shower always makes you feel better. alive.”

the water touches her little body. she smiles. her hands smile. her body smiles. she smiles.

” are you happy now? ”  yes. i’m sorry. let’s make love. after i write.

” i’ll get you some tea.”

she made love to him and paper. she was flying.

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