[ she looks up, overhead. the light is gray out the window. pre-dawn. the kind of light that makes the boarding house sleepy, quiet. she isn't falling into anyone's dreams, not with him pressed up against her.
his torso is bare. hers is too. skin stuck against skin. she keeps her hand on him, but shifts her fingers to the side, makes room between them for his. ]
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his torso is bare. hers is too. skin stuck against skin. she keeps her hand on him, but shifts her fingers to the side, makes room between them for his. ]
What are you sorry for?