I sit on the stairs, my head against the walls and I hear the strumming of the guitar going harder and sometimes I hear screams from below.
My hair is now short again.
Maybe because then I believed in something and when I had opened the door the thoughts of him kissing me flashed through my mind.
I shouldn’t have nodded at that time when we were both smoking and then stabbing out my cigarette on the wallpaper with trembling hands I had taken your head and slammed your lips against my own. You had kissed me back.
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