When they were all were busted, I ran in my room, tore the shrunken rubber off me and tried to change but my blouse stuck to me, everything stuck to me. I laid my hand inside the mark his had left on my cheek. My palm cooled, absorbed the rough red swell of his heat. Then came flowers and milk and soft kisses and tickles. Lipstick and chocolate and ribbons of lies.
Desperation has no memory.