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The crumpled sheets on her bed was the poured out one that we once frolicked at night.
I felt somewhat ashamed of what I did, but my conscience has a specifically short duration.
I looked out the window: the world plunged into silence.

Even the inhabitants of the fifth floor in the opposite house (and they were really the most violent) turned off the lights and enjoyed the silence.
The night was so calm that the mood was extremely poetic.

I looked up at the stars, at the endless sky.
For some reason he succumbed to nostalgia: he remembered his former, he remembered Alina, he remembered all those whom he cared for, whom he had once loved.
This, of course.
worth it but! But you could not waste your time on empty words and meaningless gifts, but simply throwing the stick to the right and left.
Love, it is beautiful, no doubt, but now is not relevant.
Feelings, emotions, creation should be carried out only on such nights as this.
The rest of the time is not bad to spend on simple non-binding fuck.
How can one hope for loyalty when people are already created by deceivers!

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I closed the door behind me.
Minute concern with everyday values ??has passed.
I looked down, I took a couple of steps toward the bathroom to rinse my face: Xenia stood in front of me in a bathrobe.
She was leaving the kitchen when she noticed me.
The floors of the dressing gown barely reached her knees, and its width tightly covered her wealth.
A large bust bristled in my direction through the beige fabric.
Her hair spread in waves on the back: apparently sat-combed.
Her eyes were slightly sleepy, but my appearance clearly woke her.
She looked at me appreciatively.
Like wondering who is in front of her; what to expect from me.
I looked at her: her face, neck, shoulders, breasts, hips and legs.
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