Sometimes I go through her pictures on my phone, all taken during the Christmas break. Nudes mostly, some taken without her knowledge and others where she’s posing; on my bed, on the table, against the wall, her skinny body the colour of polished mahogany. Other times, I dream of us together again, in my bed, bodies intertwined, smoke from our cigarettes hovering above us. Whatever the hell we were, I still can’t place. We were just
You enter and your soul evaporate from your body, the keys slip out of your hand. Headache pays rent on your mind and a serious confusion plays a familiar symphony on the background. Bodies lay in awkward positions. You make out dear Kimberly’s frail body, her face hidden behind the cushion, her legs sprawled like she was raped but she wasn’t, it’s worst.