Real
Angélique agreed to be my girlfriend. To celebrate I took her for a candle-lit dinner, and I had to keep pinching myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. We started seeing more of each other. Before long, pinching stopped being enough, and I started sticking pins in my face. These days even pins can’t convince me that she’s really there. Every evening I prepare a romantic meal. As I gaze at her immaculately arranged hair and faultlessly made-up face, I carve chunks out of my flesh with a surgical saw. Somehow, it still seems too perfect to be real.
Anthropology and a hundred other stories :: Dan Rhodes
...nem sabe o bem que lhe fazia.
Subscrever:
Enviar feedback (Atom)
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário