Swinging by with an alibi
Roxana found herself outside my doorsteps unexpectedly. I did not even have the time to react. It was the shittiest time she could shown herself there, and now I reap what I have sown. Of course, I wish it was under better circumstances that we found ourselves swimming over. When I opened the door, she had a fag in her gabber and I just stood there lifeless and gutted, feigning for a hug. Was I the one that influenced her the error of my ways?
She had always appeared tired whenever she graced herself in presence. Her face was slightly red, swollen by fatigue, the pores on her cheeks form tiny craters side by side. Her golden hair, ruined by the wind and rain's wicked howl, was missing a slight tint. She had centaur thighs after walking all day, and she had not a single penny for god knows why or how. But there I stood across her body that reeked of toxic air, seducing this woman with my lacklustre charm.
It was a shitshow, that one, clearly, but we were making the most out of the predicament. We had little time to catch up; she was exhausted beyond any doubt, and we both had important priorities come the morn. Worst of all -- worst of fucking all -- we did not have a proper bed space to rest, so we had to make do with the tight alley kitchen equipped with the rotten stench of rubbish and shit and all because my backboneless pa forgot to grow himself some. How my hath fallen.
It was not an easy task to crawl my way into her trous for two apparent reasons (1) I was not sure if I really was indeed attractive to this femme (perhaps spiritually, but I am at the far edge of the fence if we are discussing physical and emotional matters). And yes, I am that fucking shallow to begin with. Compared to the Burberry that is Mioseon, this woman is a Primark. (2) I am a too fucking proud to deliver this confession that I am nothing more but a fucking pussy who inherited someone's sperm who had little to no backbone.
She and I exchanged a few pleasantries here and there before we collapsed to the floor in isolation from everyone else who did not seem to care. She denied my offer to sleep with me in a sleeping bag, so she found herself a chair, which was untidy beyond repair, and leaned on to the sink with a stinking shit of a rubbish bin beneath her. After an hour or so wiggling about with her trying to level herself with the discomfort, she finally fell prey to the bag. Her figure left no room for both of us. This was why I lost interest, and so I rose and leaned at the refrigerator hoping that pa would fucking show his pathetic self out the door when the clock hit five. But it was an arduously long wait. Had I known that this tragedy would have struck, I would have exited stage left the first sign she showed interest. She intended to use me -- she did use me, until the moment she took the green bus to Luton and left to go back home to Hungary that night. Please cut me the slag.