Outside, she walked several blocks, before lighting a cigarette and exhaling into the sky.

The pores in his armpits are already reloading – he can feel moisture beginning to cling to his shirt.

I visit a place that was, not a place that is.

We grabbed and clawed and squeezed each other’s skin, claiming every inch of spine, shoulder, hair and hip, our hands screaming, “Are you still there? I’m still here.”