The drink warms in my mouth. The liquid comes off my lips in a strangely fluid motion I think. I expected it to cling to me more. To want to remain a part of me.
It saddens me.
I can’t even hold on to a drink.
stories for boys
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Daily Archives Saturday, December 2008
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And, sentence, by sentence, she comes crawling out of me.
I am in love with a ghost.
