He lowers his knees into the mud, his heavy head in my lap. I let him because I know he can taste my indifference, know it’s not sweet to him like it is to me. But I start to feel the heat of his face on my inner thighs through my jeans. No. I can’t allow myself to feel him cry. Oh, no. I can’t allow his tears to seep through my pores and find the places that can love him. So I stand up and walk off, leaving him on his knees in the mud.
