first thing I remember feeling it was his breath. Then, look at the neck.
The inevitable nervous sweat began to explore the ways usual on my body to end up where ever.
tried to simulate in my insides a halo of stability, integrity and self-confidence, even know myself discovered.
Mas is the only look that I know, the one that breaks the surface and destroy my walls with ease plays irritating.
And then, as always. The sense-certainty of being seen in a deplorable condition and attitude, understood, pretending that it is dropped on account of their being discovered, and even more pathetic, daring to convince himself of it.
is to be the last in hiding and have chosen the worst and most predictable of hiding, is to be the tortoise in a game where you have to run for free.
He knows he has won. I knew from the outset.
never had the opportunity to break free, because I never wanted to hide from him.
In the end, always wanted to find me.
I hope while I'm exposed, vulnerable and visible to his desire to win.
And a moan escapes my lips, almost an accomplice, while I hear him tell the mischief of the hunter who goes in search of easier prey.
He will always know where to look.
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