h1

Disheveled

September 2, 2009

“I’m very used to doing what I should,” he said. “And that is why you should put on that dress and go back to your room.”

I took his face in my hands and kissed him again. I knew he was right. My skin burned.

“It’s a really great dress,” he said.

We kissed again at the doorway, my dress rearranged, my shoes dangling from my fingers. I walked across the courtyard, my heart so disheveled I would not sleep normally for days.

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