Oops, My Bad! Sorry About That Slip-up…

“Just making sure you’re not feeling too overwhelmed or anything.”

“Overwhelmed, yeah,” Larry said, his eyes finally breaking away from the magnetism of her flesh to find solace in the less complicated pattern of the floor tiles. She moved from one room to the next, her energy unflagging. There he was, slumped on the sofa that had seen better days, its fabric frayed and stained. And Larry, despite himself, felt the pull, an echo of a time when desire wasn’t shrouded in mourning—a time he thought was lost forever. “Let’s wash it all away,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. One by one, she gathered the empty bottles and remnants of forgotten meals and bagged them for disposal. In that moment, she seemed less like an intruder and more like a beacon, guiding him toward a life where pleasure wasn’t interred with the dead. Clad in a pair of short shorts, she revealed slender, tanned legs that seemed to go on for miles.