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How... How fucking hard it is to walk on these stilts, especially when the whole body is aching from... fuck, I don’t even want to think about the fact that I’m basically sore from how hard I fucked that girl last night — so hard her legs, or rather mine now, feel like they’re filled with lead and at the same time shaking like strings pulled to the limit. Like every move is a fight for balance between pain and the memory of how her fingers dug into the sheets and her voice shattered against the ceiling. Lila... Yeah, that’s her name. Lila, who’s now — me. Or not? Shit, maybe that’s not even her real name? She didn’t even leave her ID, just this cursed tight top cutting into my shoulders, those shorts, and the fucking heels that make me feel like I’m about to eat the floor...