Gummy Bears in Germany.

I’m eating gummy bears.

Red. Yellow. Green. Blue.

All squishy and bursting with flavor in my mouth.

More.

More gummy bears.

More.

About fifteen minutes ago the old German man in whose apartment I’m in, was showing me around.

“This here, this is my room.

This is my bed.

These are leather apparel for adding color to sexual experiences.

This is my perfume. I bought it for about eighty euros.”

I was watching. Listening. Observing.

Wondering what exactly it was that this man wanted from me.

Wondering what exactly was expected.

Wondering what exactly I was supposed to use the knowledge of the price of his perfume for.

“Polish girl is good.

Polish girl is sweet!”

His tongue was leaning towards the left edge (from his point of view) of his chin.

He was making thrusting gestures.

I was watching. Listening. Observing.

Wondering what exactly it was that this man wanted from me.

He was saying interesting things, he was. I just found myself at a loss regarding what exactly I was to use said information for.

Connect them? How? To equate to what? To validate what resultant course of action?

“Sexy boy.”

He stretched out his hand and ruffled my yellow hair as I was on my way out.

Something cringed inside me as I turned to leave.

My mind takes me back to the gummy bears.

I am eating gummy bears.

Red. Yellow. Green. Blue.

All squishy and bursting with flavor in my mouth.

More.

More gummy bears.

More.

I wonder who I’d like to be when I’m old. What I’d like to be doing.

I wonder.

I really do wonder.

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