Walk Back Kiss

On the walk back to my car, I told you about how I probably killed my hamster. They play dead when they hibernate because I wanted to stall the kissing part of the date. I haven’t kissed anybody since I felt good, and what if I show you what could happen? Maybe you’d be flattered by my hives. Until I fall and have to tell you more. Male giraffes punch the female’s stomach to taste her pee before mating. My dog died before this. I didn’t kill her though. I have something. My dog never knew I had something. For the entirety of a family vacation to Las Vegas, I was seven and convinced I was pregnant because a friend and I had played house a little too hard. In the reflection of every slot machine, I would cup my bump and ask my Samantha doll if she was ready to be a big sister, ask myself if I was ready for TLC and then hell. Could I be on I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant if I definitely knew? They’d have to lower it to Seven and Pregnant just for me. The streets were doused with cards of naked ladies and my parents kept telling me to look up, only for there to be billboards with more naked ladies. Crows remember faces. God remembers sin. The something I have is not a baby, by the way. I don’t know if I like you. I’ll get back to you on that. Thanks for understanding. But I do think we should have sex.