The Fictionalised Biography of A.K.

Sometimes life is pretty strange, especially if
one fine day you get drunk with your best friend
and wake to her riding you hard, even though you
don’t swing that way and she knows it. Who cares?
You both have jobs, and you care for each other
so much. You get married anyway so you can live
in her country but both of you continue to go
on benders and fuck young men as well as
each other on special occasions. The memories
pile up in a corner like clothes in the heat of
your rutting. One outlives the other, so you tear
everything up by the roots, they always said the
moral of the story is that you can finally go on
adventures when your wife dies. Your dreams
lie far away, so you move house, and of course,
in celebration of your life together, you do it
in the flashiest way possible. Tie it all up and
float away, she used to say, even when she was
anchored firmly on your stake. You know she
loved you, even if she was not in love with you.
And, really, what more could anyone ask for?


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