Relativity
Our encounter was imbalanced. It was my first time. It was to be his last one.
I was caressing his skin and expecting it to be rough, manly. It was soft. I took the knife and felt uneasy, but also aware he would go bad otherwise. It had to be done. I don’t know if he enjoyed it. I didn’t. I washed his blood in the sink. His guts, post factum, were literally wrapped in plastic and thrown in the gutter. His fat, some of it was on the blade. I don’t remember the rest, just being so wasted, consumed with effort. He was slippery, as expected. His smell got well under my skin and nails and stayed there to constantly remind me of our act together.
Later, we all toasted with white wine. Because it goes just fine with a dead fish and he was exactly that. Romanian “crap” with garlic.
