Tuesday, July 09, 2002

"That night, when they went home, they made love. The passion was thin, but they kindled their flame as best they could in their bedroom, while the ceiling fan wove its off-balance path through the air above them. The air hung heavy and humid around them, invisible wet blankets making the Texas heat even more intolerable. When they were done, each with their own fulfilled passion and no attempts at communion to remind them of what lay between them, they rolled their backs to each other without a word, and silently tried to sleep. The sheets smelled of sex and desperation, and sleep was a long time coming in that hot darkness."


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