It is still the continuation
So it wasn’t about Ben or
It weren’t those occasions that smacked his rib cage out.
He knew it because everything seemed to be as normal as any day he had experienced for the last couple of months, where he saw butterflies and moths teeming over a bouquet of flowers with variations of magnificent colors and he couldn’t differentiate what was the difference between butterfly and moth because everything seemed to be as colorful as he had went through just like on this very precise moment, where his feet nailed vertically on the ground and he couldn’t feel any movement to free himself. And he knew that the cursed has been released.
He knew that the guy who was passing him over, the guy that left his palm with slight and thin scent of multiple hundreds of quid of perfume – was his remedy to his own mysterious illness. He was in love. An arbitrarily love from a man to a man. It wasn’t a brotherly love but rather a passion (and of course love) to the same communal genitalia group and he knew it wasn’t something ordinary for this kind of inter-gender affection to be happened to him and he wasn’t really sure whether his sick unadulterated mind had been polluted by the homosexual provocation of the en masse media he saw on the tv or was it just his biological and physical need for a companion.
He couldn’t explain. Maybe for now.
But it was that guy’s face that haunted his dreams for the last couple of weeks and it wasn’t scary at all but rather amusing and exhilarating and sexually compelling.
He thought that he needs to figure this squashy depressing feeling out, sooner!