Every night I sleep I close my eyes and see this image.
Grinning against the backglass, staring down the playfield like a hungry tiger. Like she knows me. Like she knows the person I am, and not the person I'm trying to be. Her hands full of fresh fruit, echoing virility, life. But also something much more than that, more natural and carnal. She pulls away from the starving madman beside her, gnawing on a fresh concession from her harvest, her taut lips giving way to shining, white teeth. I receive emotional gratification in the form of her satisfaction in a way that, in a sense, may be considered infallible. Every night.
Also, the girl from Star Gazer isn't too bad, I guess.
Reno, NV
Zemst
