Hickey

I woke up with a hickey on my neck. A big, ugly, purple one. Right there, on fucking display, between my Adam’s apple and the underside of my jaw. 

I woke up with a hickey on my neck, but I didn’t wake up next to anyone. Just me, with the sheets thrown every which way over the bed, and an empty beer can propped up on a pillow. 

So how in the fuck did I get this hickey? I wonder, as I look at the thing in the mirror. Did I black out? Did I call Sarah? And did Sara actually come over? I try really hard to remember last night… to remember last night… to remember last night… but I got nothing. 

Then the hickey starts to itch, and my skin gets tight where it’s swollen, and I look harder at it in the mirror. I look real close. And I  finally see it. 

I woke up with a bad spider bite on my neck. 

2 responses to “Hickey”

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