It smelled like him and a club and bad decisions. Sophie asked if I was “keeping souvenirs now”. I am. Obviously.
Tag: shirt
Footballer From Friday’s Afterparty
Not naming him. You’d know the face. Took me to the hotel next door, barely spoke, fucked like he had a match in the morning. Left a shirt. I kept it.
Peckham Roof At Sunrise
Someone’s speaker dying. Someone’s shirt as a blanket. I had mascara on only one eye and still felt like the main character.



