She’s My Beacon

Prose

Photo by Nathan Jennings on Unsplash

She wanes in a way that apples wane from hungry snackers. She lays around sleepy hoping for some asteroid to hit the parking lot outside her window. Well, less of an asteroid, more like an artistic explosion. All she has to do is look in the mirror, there’s enough there to birth a generation. Alas, she finds herself sprawled naked on the sofa thinking up all the reasons as to why her sex his fizzled out and why her mind could…