Risa Horowitz


Writing

Very Short Stories

Yo Babe!!!

D. and I meet and know that there's something. We drink and share cheesecake, he tells me he's leaving town soon, we flirt and walk and kiss and his hands are so strong I get dizzy. There's something to be said for a terminal romance, the kind with an expiry date. A boyfriend for today. That night I gagged, couldn't take it, but he wouldn't finish unless I did. He made me blush, phoned me ten times the next day. So I let him tell me what to do, then caress my belly, wipe the grass off my back, put my shoes on my feet, walk me to the subway and wait for the train with me, and I let him bruise my throat. He tells me about his dyslexia, the hallucinations of bouncing balls of words on illegible pages. It makes me want to make art. After he comes he suffers the little agony, his head groans, he can't speak, meanders away after passing me tissue, barely able to stand, collapsing in an incoherent babble as I try to suppress the fact that he might make a nice boyfriend. Well. He will to some other submissive girl, some day.


Updated August 2022 | Acknowledgements | Copyright ©1998-2022 Risa Horowitz