...a deathly serenade...

shower. I told her that it was fine and that she
should perhaps take sex more serious, I had said
something to that affect. You act like it’s just
fucking. —Sex? Just taking off your underwear
and putting them back on, said Leila. The time in
between rarely changes anything. And when she
said this I found myself even more enlivened in
her brokenness, but I was still contemplating her
ever clearer morphine addiction. She was thinner
by now, but still addicted; at least a hit a day.
Though I was not fully enthusiastic about the
thought of teaching her or delivering her. No, I
thought, that would be the wrong way to go about
it. Plus, there was the added pressure of her
having to ask friends to get her drugs due to her
fear of B finding her and punishing her.
Regardless of this I was very much overcome and
wanted to fuck her, for the very poetic sensuality
of her strange words. I bent down and took off
her underwear myself and fucked her once from
behind in her pussy and then in her ass in the
missionary position, or perhaps the other way
around. In both positions she would, at times,
look back distractedly moaning, out of sync with
the moment. In the morning I met Lucia at the
bus station, as I was walking into the station and I
noticed her standing with her back towards me
gesturing in conversation with another woman.
The woman was, most noticeably, wearing a
brown hijab. I soon found out that this woman
was Ahmed’s wife to be, Rajib and as he walked
to where we all stood I was introduced to the
happening of all of us going to meet Bon, and
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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