No one talks about the walk of shame each morning,the regret that stings your mind as you drag yourself back home.
The urge to give up,to run into my mother's arm fights against the memory of why I left in the first place ; to feed the same home I desperately long for.
As I entered the room a stench of urine hit me like a slap. Darkness swallows every corner of the room; the heavy downpour last night had knocked out the power pole causing the whole city total darkness. I fumbled through my bag for my phone,it torch slicing through the gloom. Vicky sprawled on the floor,a half empty bottle of Olmeca Blanco tequila clutched to her chest. Too drunk to notice my return.
I didn't dare to wake her up. As I gently peeled off the sweaty sour clothes from the night before and gather the sponge,the cold water from the well at the backyard would at least rinse off the disgust I carried from the client's foil touch. Tomorrow, it would repeat again but for how long could I keep walking this road?