I tell her they will never understand people like ‘us’, although when I say us I do not mean she and I, for I had already cast her as ‘them’. No different than the rest, a soul as dead as the rest, plain and boring and so meaningless in existence.
But the body.
Whenever I’m near her I can hear her body screaming “fuck me!”. She opens her mouth and exposes her soul, and I die inside when she does, but at the same time putting on an indifferent face, discretely raising a right eyebrow at her stupid statements and then offering friendship, satisfying her need of an assurance that she is deep and interesting, while in the back of my mind is the repeated chant of “I want to fuck you.”