I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.
I once had a drunk guy tell me I was too sexy to be shooting up at a party. He knocked the needle out of my hands and stepped on the pen, shattering the casing, telling me I should thank him by giving him my number and a kiss. It was my diabetes medicine.
(submitted by anonymous)
MAAYA by John-Paul Pietrus