I think she's unconscious, lying beside me, but i hear her voice:
"your a** will wear out before my foot will", and i know that pesky
thing called impulse control has failed me. I want to believe i
delivered her from the clutches of something detestable-her
significant other-into a more epicurean lifestyle(dont overanalyze
that) of delights and leisure. That love: at first intense, but now,
as enthusiastic as a bag of wet leaves.