92 Rhys
92
Rhys
I didn’t remember their names, but they were pretty, nice, and happy to keep me company for a night. Two girls, one on either side of me in the booth, laughing at something or other as one of them stroked my thigh, getting dangerously close to my zipper. The other one told me she wanted a drink.
I took a deep breath, a little confused. I don’t know what I’d taken that night, but it was making me see everything blurry and sometimes double. I took out my wallet and dropped a couple of bills on the table. As I was closing it, I noticed a photo sticking out a little bit. I grabbed it, tried to focus, tried…to concentrate on the moment. On Ginger’s face next to mine in the photo booth. Her dazzling smile. So pretty. Prettier than anyone else’s in the world. Lower down, our lips together. Goddammit. I couldn’t even remember what it was like to kiss her, what it was like to be inside her. How long ago was that? Almost three years? Maybe. And the memories were growing vaguer, as if the color was draining out of them.
I put the photo back in my wallet as I felt unknown lips on my neck, going up my jaw, finding my mouth, seductive, tasting of gin. I let myself go, the way I always did now.
Especially this past month.
Since the news came…