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She removed the strap from her top in a spasm of adolescence. Revealing no bra. Only little indications of breasts hiccuping from her chest. Sighing like a hurricane as she crawled out of the remainder of her clothes.

New enough it would seem to trust the numbers on the pages. Middle of the story. Maybe more. She welcomed the scissors to her groin. As they cut a garland of yeses from her singular no.

Tomorrow dabbing in its fingerpaints. Thumbprints delineating margins of skin. Signatures at the bottom of the bed. Endorsing situations not intended to be cashed.