I noticed his belt on my dresser this afternoon, coiled like a snake. Dark brown, almost black, smooth and well-made. Its low-key fanciness surprised me.
I pulled it through my fingers and watched its shine bend and flex with my hands and smiled. It was a nice meaty weight.
I’ll think of him, he who couldn’t be bothered to text me after sex, when I wrap it around the throat of my next sublime and willing lover. If he ever calls to get it back I’ll tell him the dog ate it.