Writhing on Rob

I was 16, 

We were coming home from Germany.

Six weeks of milk from the cow on the corner,

Basketball with cute boys, 

And a Holocaust camp.


It was a long plane ride home.

I sat on my best friend’s lap,

And writhed on him,

For 10 delightful minutes.


It was the wrong thing to do.

The man next to us must have known.

No one said a word.


When we got home, I dated his best friend.

For three years.

It was our first relationship.


The last time he saw me, I was all grown up and he left me waiting in a car outside his house.

It was freezing. Snow was on the ground.

He had a girlfriend. She wasn’t home but would be jealous.

I let myself in and stuffed my used nylons in the bathroom waste basket.

Hour 15, Prompt 15


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