It's late at night. A pale moon rises over the city. I'm out, driving hard and fast at night. It's been a boring day, nothing interesting happened at the club, nobody to talk to and no one to go home to. But I got your phone number. We had been talking at the bar, you laughed and eventually got me on the dance floor. Laughter, some touching -- so much laughter I felt drunk with you. I didn't have the guts to ask you if you'd want to leave. This empty feeling of an unfinished sentence laying thickly at the forefront of my mind, unwilling to get out of the way and for the past to continue. You're all I can think about. You're all I want. You, in the dead of the night, called me. I fumbled for the phone while I was driving, babbling dumbly into the phone to hear you-- of course I'd come over, I'd never been to a stranger's house so willingly and so easily submitting to the mystery of you. I didn't know what you were, but I was hypnotized by knowing you, your existence cast a dark spell onto me. My heart hiccuped with a strange pulse, fast and pounding with blood flowing with urgency to my clit. My cheeks were hot when I put the phone down and time seemed to crawl as I sped against the stoplights and sprinting through the city, so unalive at this hour and I ran through it like there was hell behind me. In a way, there was. I was leaving something behind me that I had been wanting to for a long time... Regret. I would come away from this as a winner, taking something with me. I'd take you-- and all that you were if I could. The front door to your apartment becomes a beacon in the darkness, a light above the door guiding me steadily closer, my hand hovering above the doorbell. My finger a knife, I slice through the dull glow and push down, the buzzer sounding muffled through the walls. I wait for someone, you hopefully, to appear in the doorway.