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16 Red balloons go by

Date = 7 November

Place = San Francisco (Mel’s house) (Scoma’s Restaurant)

POV - Melaena

“Ouch,” I grimace as I lift the razor. Blood trickles from just below my knee where I nicked myself with the blade. I hate shaving my legs, but I hate waxing even more. Carefully I glide the razor over my knee, removing the last bit of golden hair. I rinse it away under the tap.

Now for under my arms.

I wipe the steam from the mirror and stare at myself. My intestines pull into a knot as I look into my own eyes, trying to ignore the message my ‘windows to the soul’ portray back to me. My deepest, darkest secrets; the ones I’m desperately hiding from everybody — including myself — I have more feelings in my right tiny toenail for the devil I hate, than I have for the guy who is picking me up later.

How messed up is that? And what’s more, I want that devilish naked body sprawled over mine. That there is not just messed up, it’s juiced up crazy.

And even worse is that the devil was right. I do want a
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