Memoir in Frequencies — Entry II

The Moan That Made Her Pause

You were already undone.
Pizza half-eaten.
Knees bruised.
Soap still tucked in its little brown paper bag.

We hadn’t stopped since you dropped to the kitchen floor.
From blowjob to first bite—
you rode that wave all the way to dusk.

Couch.
Yoga ball.
Shower.
Again on the couch.
Back to the bed.

Every position felt like a sentence we hadn’t spoken yet.
Every moan, a …