I stand, compelled to reach out to her. Xxnx I find myself sitting back into my seat. If only we knew her name, we would whisper it proudly among ourselves. “I don’t know from what stupid place on the internet my son gets his ideas, but he wants me to get a dog to fuck me while I suck on his fat pipe! “My son, David, he discovered I look at porn sites. Someone moans. S.M.O.M.S. Sharing strength to survive our boys.” That bit was printed. On the back, in handwritten blue ink, it said, “Ask for Ingrid when languishing books are first available.”
Then I laughed. The edge chafes my thighs past the hem of my miniskirt. Ingrid had said, when she lit the candle, “When it dies, only one woman may leave at a time.”
I want to leave.
