Regret (#107 of 365)

Asking yourself the question you don’t want to answer.

His forearms and shins burned. His cheek grazed when he crawled lower. The carpet was rough and in need of vacuuming. The dust and hair played havoc against his nose and gag reflect. But he had to get out. He did not want to be seen.

She stirred in the bed. His skin crawled. What was I thinking? His one night stand was a next morning regret.

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