Paguroid

The thought of your largest organ flung on a towel rack behind the bathroom door is a hanging shame. Think of the dust and the dirt, he pleads. Think of the stray cat hairs.

Fenton shuts his eyes while Anna pulls the last from her foot – inside-out – and tumbles its weight in his arms. He waits for the click of the door shut behind her before blinking again.

The warmth of her skin fades in his arms. He hopes she won’t scorn thoughts of her stripped.

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