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There he was, slumped on the sofa that had seen better days, its fabric frayed and stained. Larry’s fingers sawing in and out of her the whole time. A small window caught her attention; it was covered with dust but offered a glimpse into the shadowy interior. I bet you could slap them and they wouldn’t even bounce!’ Larry thought to himself. She stood on a balcony somewhere with mountains in the background. With every window she opened after cleaning it, the room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, as if it, too, had been yearning for this moment of renewal. And that knowledge gave him some solace amidst the pain. Memories that both comforted and tormented him, leaving him feeling torn between longing and despair. Back home, they fucked on the couch, their passions unleashed by the magic of the night. “Stay put,” Cheyenne instructed, her playfulness peeking through despite the gravity of the situation.