Just Another Day

Working at the store today was just another day, you know? My boyfriend and I have this weird thing we do sometimes when I get home. We're both adults but it feels so wrong somehow, like a secret nobody else should ever know. He gets me pinned against the wall in our hallway, hands sliding under my shirt as he whispers dirty things in my ear. It's rough and fast and over before either of us can really catch our breath. Afterwards, I feel this emptiness, wondering what it means about us. But then he smiles at me like everything's okay, so maybe it is.