Dylan Gosland
We were just friends. We settled the matter. Nice and civilized. Both of us would behave, and move on.
Maybe that illusion was why the car windows were fogged up, my right palm was cupped on her left breast, and three hours of our lives were lost to hands and eyes and nestled bodies.
Maybe next time then.
© 2013 Rind Literary Magazine. All Works © Respective Authors.
rindliterarymagazine.com
Vox Inaudica 