Tagged: Love (951)

Her boyfriend was sullen, watched too much TV. And she was getting tired of feeling his love only in the mornings. When she had to pee most.

There is no ‘relationship,’ she said firmly. I don’t believe you, he said, his hand on her leg. She wanted closure. He wanted more openness.

They stood in the mud, laughing about what they’d just done. His ass itched. The mud was drying already. Just taste your finger, he told her

In the end they were judged not by the nature of their love, or by the silly clothes, but by the blood curdling noise they made every night.

He was texting and walking. And she was texting and walking. And when they bumped into each other he got his chocolate in her peanut butter.