A woman is a fertile soil. She is pain and she is joy. She is bread. She is water. She’s everywhere, you see?
There is fear but there is hope. The past is haunting the future seems promising
The Egg By: Andy Weir You were on your way home when you died. It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me. And that’s when you met me.
Earlier in the summer. My place. We spend the night curled up on the couch watching a movie. A bottle of red and a proper spliff always made for perfect, lazy evenings. She tells me she just wants to be friends and I concurred. Neither of us are ready for anything serious. But after the film is finished, there we are, laying alone in the dark quiet room, listening to each other’s heartbeat.