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WHY AM I SUCH A MORBISTIC WOMAN?
My husband says that his friends say that I am a slut.
Have you ever felt that your life took a turn you didn’t expect, but that deep down you always wanted? I have. And I’m not talking about that romantic nonsense from the movies, no. I’m talking about that moment when you look in the mirror and ask yourself: Who am I really when no one sees me? My story doesn’t begin with flowers or eternal promises, but with sweat, panting and a truth that burns my skin every time I remember it. I am Odissey, and what I’m going to tell you is mine, intimate, almost as if I let you spy through the crack of my soul. Do you dare to come in?
It all began on a random night, one of those that don’t promise anything special. The air smelled of jasmine mixed with the smoke of a poorly extinguished cigarette. Holmes was lying on the sofa, with that crooked smile that drives me crazy and pisses me off at the same time. He’s a little morbid, my Holmes, he always has been. He’s not one of those who say nice things to win you over; He looks at you as if he already knew what you wanted before you even admitted it. And I, dark-skinned, with my little ass that he can’t stop looking at, have always known how to provoke him. But that night was different. That night we didn’t just play with fire; we let it burn us.
