In the bathroom, I take a piss. I splash some water on my face. I look at myself in the mirror and wonder if I might have some kind of ticking bomb inside me. If maybe I went and fucked up his life even more than it already was, with my carelessness.

It doesn't even occur to me that he could've given me something. I assume he's only worried about what might've come off of me. All those fuckin' strangers. All that time not giving a shit what happened to me.

Coming back into the room, damp washcloth in hand, I stop at the edge of the bed beside him, looking down with a faint, hesitant twitch of a smile.

We're a couple of fuck ups. Might as well accept it, now.