Between your body and the sheets and the last piece of night. Your dad is home but passed out, exhausted from Rounds. And your room is so far from where he’s sleeping. In the dark, in the cool of the house, I feel the damp heat of your skin and how the sweat is cooling down too fast on mine. Warm, thin cloth is sticking to our bodies and I feel your breasts rubbing against mine through the fabric. I am trying to be quiet. This is stupid and the word is just a fact, no sting. You started this and I’m just trying to keep our clothes on.
I’m exhausted and my hand is bruised. But I doodled anyway. Not the best but meh. I like it. Its pretty small though…so I zoomed in!
Brianna’s been doing a sketch series for my stories—it’s such an honor, and I just love them.