post some prose

Some prose I had written, on my sister C's arm.

This time she promised him would be the same. Cos truly, why would you ask for DIFFERENT when the first time
When the first time was just so fucking damn -- it was good. They came upon:
Little square doors with large triangle opportunities
Locked barred under green awnings.
Red sunlight invaded cold floors, armed with distant warmth.
Grey skies dotted with puffs of nothing.
But he knew. This time was different.
He had come upon her morning.