“Make love to me,” she murmurs clinging desperately to his fragile stability amongst the raging chaos.
She’s in the best shape of her life. Better than when they were madly in love. Body fat down to nothing, long legs toned from daily ten-mile walks trying to escape herself, breasts like rare fruit enticingly within reach.
Yet he hesitates.
Afterward, regretting his weakness, he whispers over the soft sound of her sleeping, confessing that he’s drowning.
He stares into blackness absentmindedly stroking her hair as she unconsciously clutches at him, her naked limbs twining around his, weighing him down, pulling him under.
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