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The aftermath

Things that linger

Acts|
Linger
Unwanted
In the psyche.

Weight.

The moment of elation and heady freedom wore off.

Irrepressible irresponsibility gave way to gloomy culpability.

It was like a hangover, or coming down off some drug high.

Regrets

She had a few.

Self recriminations.

Ugly self talk.

Talk? Try tirade.

Stupid stupid stupid

How could you be so fucking stupid?

Sinking stomach, aching chest, tight breathing.

Shit.

What had she done?

She couldn’t believe she’d just kissed a total goddamn stranger.

Worse than that.

She actually didn’t even know if he was a stranger or not.

A cold dread descended.

Who was it?

What if?

What if it was someone she knew?

What if?

What if he recognised her?

What if?

What if this came back to bite her?

She’d never know

Who.

She wished she could be that carefree, liberated lover. Free spirited feminist

But instead she felt like the wanton woman

Disgraced

Fallen

Guilt and shame and

Repression

She knew exactly how society judged

Yet her own self-judgement was so much harsher.

Recrimination.

How could her earlier confidence and poise just evaporate? Was she not the same person she had been just minutes before? What the hell was going on in this meat bag of hormones and emotions and pheromones and all that chemical bullshit anyway? Was this all it came down to, ultimately?

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