Home at last
It's been so long since I've performed the ritual of rising from the bed and fishing for the square packet from a decorative glass bowl on the vanity. "How long has it been?," I ask myself in the mirror as I try to decide which one we will use. The last time I stood at this bowl was to examine expiration dates. Realizing for the first time my condoms were expiring before I could use them. Now, I stand at the bowl, excited for what comes next, after all this time. First, he tears the corner of the packet off. The gentle snap once he rolls it down. The arousing smell of latex. And it's on.