Sometimes life feels like a movie but a grainy East European one with subtitles and no budget. Cooked chilli sin carne. Magic ingredients: dark chocolate and chipotle.
Got an upsetting email from a date, who I thought was also a friend. Turned out I misjudged things.
This cook is in meltdown. Standing outside the back door, in my apron, feeling shit and woozy. A beautiful trans girl talks about how many times she has been dumped.
“I’ve been dumped by text.”
“So have I”, I reply grimly, thinking back to the Brazilian murderer.
“I’ve been dumped just after sex, just after I made the girl come”, she pauses. “And I hadn’t even come.”
I bow to her. She has won the worst dumping I’ve ever had competition.
The wind whistles down the alley. I lean against the wall, wiping my hands on my whites, a sinking feeling in my heart. Below, it burns.
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