By Madhvi Ramani
Berlin is a city built on swamp land. In summer, the lakes ripple dark green, leaves turn in the sunlight, weeds spread like thrush. Sometimes, the smell of sewers wafts through the streets. Even behind sunglasses, I catch the glisten of sweat on skin, and my body stirs.
I haven’t had sex for months. Not since the last relationship singed my insides. My body retreats, deferring to the wisdom of my mind. Never again. Touching another human will hurt, eventually.
Still, as the days stretch and the heat intensifies, so does my longing. My fingertips tingle, reaching for contact. Maybe all I need to cool myself down is a drink with a man. I decide to go on a date. Continue Reading…