It’s just a girl (pt.7)

I told them they’d feel different. It’s easier that way – they were more likely to stay the night, leave earlier in the morning. But they were all the same to me. The same then as the next day and the same as any girl before. Just a girl. It’s just a game. A script I read. A role I play. I take them, leave them, ignore them, apologise to them (lie to them), regret them. I push them through my doors, politely (forcefully) and watch them struggle across the streets, in taxis, to the next room. And in the moment where the light takes them and their silhouette becomes just another body in the shallow air I forget their name and I forget their face.

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