breakup sex willis plummer
Sitting on a bench on Mott Street, Eric’s breath tastes like green curry and Anne’s tastes like pad Thai. Tears are running down her cheeks. He can’t understand why she is crying; he is the one getting dumped. They kiss for a while, then pull away to look at each other, then kiss more, then he whispers something about her letting him come up to her apartment one last time, and she shakes her head “no.” After an hour of begging her to let him spend the night, tears are in his eyes too. He feels unsure if he is crying because he feels like crying or because he is supposed to be. While they sit on the bench repeating the cycle of crying and kissing and begging to go upstairs, a homeless man walks up to them and sticks his face between theirs. 130