En la busqueda de Picos,piquitos,picotes,besos,besitos y besotes. Mierda. Salados dulces, agrios con sabor a halls de fresa, chicle de 100 y mentas de 50. Pequeños y olvidadizos recuerdos de babitas,babas,babotas con gustillo a soledad.
This is an exerpt from a story I'm currently writing titled "Agrios". I will not be sharing the story itself for personal reasons, but I figured I'd allow a bit of the rough draft to be out there. The story is about the apocalypse, that is all I will be sharing.