He blô you?

— He blô me. — he said after I had asked him about a Chinese friend we have in common.

— Ok. Nice for you. — I commented back with such an astonishing face. I had sincerely never expected them to be openly gay and in a relationship, especially because once one of them assured me that, in their country, homossexuality is not allowed by law. They come from the same place.

— Nice? How? — he replied expressing an even greater surprise.

— Yes, it’s nice you guys… — some pause. — It’s nice you and he are having an intimate relationship.

— Why do you say that? — he was clearly unconfortable.

— But you said “he blow” you.

— No.

— You said he blows you… like blow…

— Nooooooo. He blô me.

— So! You said.

— Please, do you have a pen? — he asked me laughing. I did not know why he was laughing in such a way.

I looked for a pen in my bag, got one and gave it to him. He took the receipt of the snack we had just bought in the bar and wrote something on that piece of paper.

— You see? — he said loudly. I turned to him, because I had distracted myself for seconds observing something, and he was showing me the paper with blocked written on it. — He blô me. Understand?

— Ohhhhh… — I startled for once in that afternoon, because I could not believe that their friendship had ended. — So, he blôôôô you?

— Yeeeeeesssss.

touch me

– touch me, please, touch me, please, touch meeeeeee…

[…]

– stop!

– can’t i touch you?

– my body. only.

– but i am doing it.

– please, touch my body.

– i do it. can’t you feel?

– please, keep your distance. no touch. don’t touch my soul, please.

– kiss you? can i?

– my lips, not my mouth.