DisheveledSeptember 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.