The Sinking of the Titanic

“Fuck you, Daniel.” Serena repeated two more times, completing the circle of three, the great or so I believed. It sounded a ringtone to my ears when coming out from her mouth which I’ve only tasted a few dozen of times. I’m starved of love. Her love which drove me at the edge of maddening adventure.

“Feeling better, Darling?” I inquired, handing over another glass of champagne. I’d the conscience to fix us a few drinks for a good travel in the middle of the river from where we could review the top sightings of the city. The captain of the boat didn’t seem to mind Serena’s howling; Nathan stared at us baffled but engrossed in clicking pictures on his tab and as I eyed John, I found him chuckling silently, his head immersed in his phone.

“How can one feel better when you’re around?” She snorted.

“I’m not that bad of a company.” I defended myself, placing my glass on the trolley and adjusting my shirt collar. It had displaced from it’s position and was causing an itching sensation in my