Submitted by megan on Mon, 06/09/2008 - 15:30
The airport is nearly empty at 4:30 am. We're two of a handful of sleepy people scattered throughout the terminal. We've been up all night. There's knots in the back of my hair, whisker scrapes across my cheekbones. People look, look away. No one can see that spot by your nipple, the half-moon bruises just forming, where I bit you too hard as I came.