Parched throats and parched hearts. Sometimes she doesn’t know which is worse. A quick gulp of cold water, or a quick fuck against the nearest wall. It’s just never enough.
So when he takes her hands and presses a chaste kiss to her cheeks, breath uneven and skin still sticky with a sheen of sweat, she wonders if maybe this time it’s different. A flash of memories not yet made, of loud fights and comfortable silences, the lingering smell of fresh laundry and burnt dinners. She hopes..
Today though.. She grins and puts herself back together. Never enough, but someday.
(Author's notes: I don't know. *shrugs*)