Niisan, wake up.
What is it?
Can I sleep with you?
I know sleep is the last thing he wants, but I pretend for his sake. Every man needs his illusions.
I imagine him pushing me face-down into the futon, nearly smothering me with my own pillow. He touches me only to drive himself deeper into me. So we don’t have to think about what we’re doing.
I grip him in one hand as I spend in the other. I cut my hand on his hard, sharp edges. Punishment for my sins.
We are both absolved.