DETOUR
“I've been needing to see you...so badly.
Please come with me tonight.”
The lost man
pleaded through the meticulously adorned glass.
“My wife thinks
I had to drop off some paperwork so I could come out this way.”
She did not
respond, did not even bother to look at him.
The dress
salaciously hugged her breasts and waist.
She modeled
Juicy Couture, advertised at Saks for $99.99.
Her legs
reflected fluorescent lighting, both blinding and stirring him.
“Please tell
me...I don't even know your name.”
Her face
eternally yearned.
He loved her
dearly.
She was
plastic.
Flawless.
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