I poke and push the excess flesh around. My fingers sink deep, disappearing in funny bulges of stretched skin. It doesn’t hurt; it is her absence protruding, moving awkwardly around like a water bed. My breasts tingle. A blood-filled pad between my legs needs changing. I can sense its weight against one thigh. I hope I haven’t stained the bed. It wouldn’t be the first time in this short amount of time.
