[You don't have to give me anything. For a guy who lives as spartanly as she does, he doesn't seem to understand how little "things" mean to her. Stuff gets lost. Stuff can be left behind. Memories are the only thing you carry with you, even through lifetimes.
She grabs onto his hair, tugging hard, and leans her head back against the wall. Her insides are bruising, her ass is being scraped up by the concrete, and it's perfect.]
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She grabs onto his hair, tugging hard, and leans her head back against the wall. Her insides are bruising, her ass is being scraped up by the concrete, and it's perfect.]