…And menstrual sex, the kind fueled by unbridled friskiness, makes these blank moments the best. My body a tripod of two knees and my left elbow, my right hand making busy tiny messy circles on my tiny messy clit, my boyfriend behind me, I feel the bedroom dissolve around me like an acid dream. The beige walls turn misty, the mirror melts and pools, the bookcase liquefies into formlessness, the bed below me sinks and puddles. There is no bedroom, there is no apartment, there is no city pulsing outside. There is nothing.

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