Entry navigation
Highway to Hell
originally published on livejournal · abstractambush · August 11, 2010
Fogthat - Slow Ride
indescribable
She stood as if in a shower while someone alternated running the cold, and then the hot water in a nearby faucet. Strokes of melting heat poured over her, then slashes of unforgiving ice ripped through her. Standing perfectly still, temperature and temperament played tug of war with her body. Her hand tightened into a fist and then loosened, muscles contracted and then fell back into place with the limp rigidity of a corpse. In the interim, her fingers moved with automatic deftness, searching. They found a message.
If you know what's good for you, you should scare up my address. I am a freelancer now and allow couch surfers in my habitat. And also, if you're lucky, you can earn a spot in my eurotop full-size bed.
Fingertips tingled, a manifestation of titillation or simply a symptom of the vacillating malady usurping her nervous system.
Well how late are your doors open?
A soft, melodic tinging broke the silence of the room as she dropped the ring on the kitchen counter on her way out the door. I'm not married tonight, she thought.