The clink of glasses held in a toast between good friends
The crackle of static electricity between her sweater and her hair
The rasp of my stubble against her skin
The slither of sheets sliding off of our entwined forms
The racing drumbeat of my heart sounding in my ears
The slow and satisfied exhalation of breath in an unihibited sigh of happiness
Is it too much to ask for someone to arrange a soundtrack that accurately represents my day-to-day activities, and then follow me around with an iPod and mini-speakers, blasting it so everyone can hear?
…that’s the last time I eat an entire bag of sunflower seeds at my desk.
And you have a dirty mind.
Gil Hicks: What… like the back of a Volkswagen?” —Mallrats