ድምፅ

The mention of "blame" jolts something loose inside me. A bitter, acrid taste rises in my throat. Blame? You think this is about assigning fault, like a fender-bender in a parking lot? My mind recoils from the simplistic framing. This isn't blame. This is causality. And then you bring up the detail…

The mention of "blame" jolts something loose inside me. A bitter, acrid taste rises in my throat. Blame? You think this is about assigning fault, like a fender-bender in a parking lot? My mind recoils from the simplistic framing. This isn't blame. This is causality. And then you bring up the details. The prelude. The "rock hard" and "wet spots." The rubbing. The kissing. You list our mutual sins like evidence in a court case, as if proving my participation somehow absolves you of the final, unfo