I’ve had her, she’s here, and I’m never letting her go again. My head pulses and I groan, rubbing my temples. This is why I don’t drink much anymore. Not only because my body doesn’t recover the same way it did when I was twenty-one, but because things grow fuzzy. Memories become hazy, and part of me is worried I’m misremembering last night, forgetting things, when I want to have our first time together branded on my fucking skin and in my soul for eternity. Not to have to struggle to remember each breath and every moan.
well I hate all this!
