/lit/ - Literature

The pill tube had disappeared back into her dresser drawer, buried under a mound of lingerie. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, looking discontentedly at her breasts, pushing them around, squeezing them. The body is a punishment from God. When we die, invisibly the soul rises to heaven like a great warmth. She felt the iciness of her hands. A Spanish man's name tattooed on her right forearm. "What the hell are you doing, bitch?" Juan asked. He pulled up his baggy pants. The toilet flushed through the silence.