Eidolon Ave: The Second Feast
APARTMENT 2C
string cord tendril twine
Tuesday, 3:25 PM
The floor felt like flesh.
The tender kind found at sixteen, seventeen. The blossoming, virgin flesh that whispered to him from navel to knee. Longing to be caressed, kissed. Brought to life.
Wanting to be touched.
And he did.
Crawling, palms flat, chest scraping the floor. Groping his way toward freedom. His fingers cinched, lips stitched, eyes blinded by a ravenous, relentless impossibility.
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