I didn’t look her in the eye the whole time during dinner that night. The food was probably good, I cant tell. Guilt isn’t a real feeling, it the discomfort of apprehension that keeps the anxiety alive. Conscience didn’t strike hard until I saw her cleaning my muddy shoes, she was so Absorbed in it, as if it were her worship. I don’t know that feeling of thrill, I have never felt it since.
We quitely slipped off to sleep that night as we spooned. The invisible finger prints on my body were never discovered by her, and, I had ensured that there were no lipstick marks either.
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