I arrived at the warehouse and saw dirty John had already started sorting through the books, “let the day begin” I told myself. A few hours passed...and we had gone through at least half of the boxes, we said very little to each other, only discussing the normal stuff: weather, news, weekend plans. Deep down I always spited John, he had a bit of money behind him from a house his parents left to him which he rented and a evening job in the sorting office. He owned his own place and lived alone so. Her chest heaving with her raw emotion, her hair swinging wildly about her face, the music in her head in an increasing pace. Too frightened to acknowledge the truth. Her mind fighting what her body wants, craves, needs. The dance in significance of that war within her. Shouting out with anger aimed not at him but at herself ?NO!? the shout echoing throughout the room. She fights with herself with renewed energy she cries out feeling the desire, the need so great to submit to him.The music. More

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