To be in this place is to admit you exist.
To be in this place is to admit you want something.
Or maybe tell yourself you’re doing it for the kid.
. . .
Places you feared most were empty, your fear of them theoretical. You wouldn’t be caught dead there, so you didn’t go, so no one went because what was the point?
. . .
In a world of deprivations, I suppose the smallest might become a fetish.
