The Edge of Yes

WORK STUDY – PART IV

I woke up in a mess of my own making.

Literally.

The sheets were stuck to my thigh.

My chest still tacky with dried regret.

My brain foggy from everything I’d done—and everything I still wanted to do.

For a second, I just lay there, eyes on the ceiling, trying not to blink too hard. There’s a kind of shame that sets in when you wake up alone and satisfied, and it’s worse when the only person who might’ve touched you is a memory you’re not supposed to want anymore.