Seventy

When I was in college, I had this fucking weird and diabolical experience of indirectly witnessing these two people fucking in one of the restroom stalls. Or whatever they're called, that isn't something I would like to know about now. I was just checking myself out in the mirror when I began hearing moans at the opposite end of the restroom. There I was, dumbfounded at the idea of sneaking past surveillance cameras to catch a glimpse of these people fucking like it might be the end of the world for them. When my girlfriend decided that we should break-up, I was immediately devastated and heartbroken, and even went on to ask for forgiveness at the expense of promising to let myself become a changed person over time. She didn't think twice about it; all she had to do was to make sure she had already moved on from this gut-wrenching ordeal we both had to casually deal with even if it was by far some of the difficult things we had to put up with. Somehow it had us both plummeting to the ground without casual warming. It was as if neither of us can catch the person once we start falling down simultaneously and without the intent of letting the person know that either one of us have shared hate or resentment towards the other person.