Her Own Person
With tired eyes and sweaty thighs, they held each other close, keeping warm underneath a shared blanket. In between sleepy sighs and quiet laughs, they reminisced on last night. Her fingers travelled along his back, exploring the shape his skin made. He was not her type but he was sweet, telling her nice things. She let none of it go to her head. History had taught her to stay wary of compliments spoken in bed. For that reason, she found a balance between unattachment and affection. She cared for him through touch and nurtured words then walked away alone—unexpectant and confident; her own person.
—Perth, WA, 18 June 2017