“God, Josh!” “Did that hurt?” She wasn’t behaving as though it had hurt in any way. “Unnhhh, fuck… no, not at all. You just surprised me...is all; it actually feels very good. Mmm…” she closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of my fingers stroking her. I watched her face for a moment as her lips parted and she took a shuddering breath, and then I leaned in and kissed the inside of her right knee, and then her left. When I glanced up again, she was watching me. I kissed a little farther up. Everything – from the dusty, dried flower arrangement with the oddly canted, broken cattail that took pride of place on the kitchen table in between the mismatched salt and pepper shakers, to the haphazard collection of brightly colored refrigerator magnets holding up an assortment of fading recipes, postcards and notes – it all seemed to have lost whatever meaning it had ever had for her. It was just junk, at the same time both embarrassingly intimate and utterly impersonal. Like the discarded. More

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