The night had started well. She could remember his playful laugh, the way she felt his eyes lingering on her as she walked away. You can look, but you can’t touch, she’d thought with a giggle.
She looked at him now, slumped over in the passenger seat. She stopped in an abandoned lot, dark and still at 3 AM, but bustling in a few short hours. She let his body tumble onto the wet asphalt, the mysterious drug he’d intended for her still coursing through his veins.
She stared at the word written on his forehead in crimson before driving away.
The Moral Mondays prompt this week is Look, Don’t Touch.