He was a dead man walking.
He never knew nor understood why the sunlight refracted off his face in ghostly hues of purples and yellow. He never understood why she found him attractive or let him do things to her that she never dared tell anyone. Things best kept secret and unspoken, things reserved for final confession.
She wasn't a dime a dozen girl or a thrift store beauty but she certainly didn't belong in Park Place and her asking price would be that of a discarded newspaper on Baltic. She knew that she'd have to embrace her demons to erase her outer appearance and she'd made peace with the idea years ago.
He settled into bed and watched her parade around the room. She was wearing some frumpy grandmother type bra that was two sizes too big, he could steal glances of her supple skin without her knowing. Her panties didn't match, but he expected nothing more than a haphazard attempt at feminine beauty from her.
She saw him watching her, and if it were possible to feel emotion, she would have blushed endlessly at his gaze. Everyone seems broken inside. Pawns on a game board.
She coaxed herself onto his lap. He exhaled loudly. She sighed a silent sigh.
She slept through the night that night. The first night in years.
