Dark Garden

I’m back at his doorstep. This place I’ve sworn I’ll never return to. Many times.

I feel dirty, ugly, as I ring the bell, and uglier still when he answers the door wearing nothing but a pair of baggy trousers. His feet are bare, his hair disheveled, he hasn’t shaved in a while.  He’s not handsome, or well built, or even particularly well hung and, worst of all, he has a laugh that makes me cringe. I do my very best not to make him laugh.

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