September 1st, 2001.
We are not strangers. We have danced too many times in the past to different tunes.
I was searching for prompts. I want to explore. Any ideas?
My bed is cold. Always cold. Every night I dread crawling into it. It is unforgiving. When I prepare myself for bed, I find myself procrastinating actually going to bed. As I bind my hair and remove my makeup, I imagine what it would be like if it wasn't so cold. If I could curl…