Our first apartment was very dark at night. In bed, I could barely see her, even when she was right next to me. One night, I moved to gently touch her face, hoping to turn her head my way for a kiss, and perhaps a little more. My middle finger stopped abruptly, a warm, soft wetness that gave a bit beneath the momentum of my gentle movement. I thought I might have grazed her lip, but then she screamed, and I grabbed for the light.
“WHY DID YOU POKE ME IN THE EYE, YOU ASSHOLE?!”
I didn’t get that goodnight kiss.
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