I am Just a Man

Good writing.

Shades of a writer's mind

I paced the length of my room reminiscing on my narrow escape. I am just a man! Man is weak! I stood, deliberating on my next move. I wondered how I came to desire a thing I vowed to never want, she was a combination of both light and darkness, she possessed the touch of a prostitute and the words of a mother, she had the smile of a child and the eyes of a siren.

“Don’t fret,” her hands rested on my shoulder and her face stood inches away from mine. I could feel the warmth of my morning coffee flow through my veins, I cleared my throat “I am absolutely fine.”

She went to the kitchen and returned with food, she bent slightly to place the tray of fried rice and chicken before me, and exposed her fresh oranges to my naked eyes. They compelled me to suck…

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