I know my life is no longer my own when his hands slide up my shirt. Before I can gasp, he asserts his grip on my breasts. The air is granite. Only my eyeballs move. My boyfriend is fossilized on the sofa lining the wall to my left. A large man wraps his arm, ominously, around Ed’s shoulders. It’s understood. We’ve walked, willingly, into a trap.
© 2025 Flannery Foster
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