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She heard about prostitutes who refuse to kiss their clients. And about the unwritten custom in hospitals: you let doctors stare into your vagina, they let you get undressed and dressed behind a curtain.

She was putting her dress on, trying to hide, being as effective as sunscreen spf 15 in Sahara. When she turned her head, he was looking straight at her, but quickly closed his eyes. She carried on wondering why he was always on the left side when he was looking at her. And she liked that he knew she didn’t want to be watched getting dressed. In fact, she loved that. How he always so easily understood the unspoken. Of course, that was the last day when he loved her. And the last time when she felt understood.