She passed down the stairs and into the street. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. She could feel her face turning beet red. Winter came: rainy, damp, and savage. There is no future for me here. The phone did not ring. But what did he know beyond these facts? Nothing, clearly. We smirk, and we’re a bit—furtive. .
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 23-09-2024 06:32:50