Sad Confessions.

Walking down the hallway of an old hotel and eavesdropping on sad confessions...


"Our clothes are scattered on the floor. We could not have done it more randomly. Once the pretence that we might not sleep together had evaporated, everything else followed with the grace of a runaway train. If she brought her own condoms, I was too much of a gentleman to let her offer them. But when I reached for my own, it suddenly occurred to me that the ease and system of it might appear a little too slick and too practiced."


Too slick. Too practiced.


Scattered clothes + Sad confessions.