Sastra stood in the empty tent, soggy shirt clinging to her soft pale skin. She stared at the space he’d occupied before storming out, the door swinging silently closed behind him. If they’d been in a house, she knew that it would have slammed hard enough to break the hinges.
Alone again, she pulled her shirt closed, folding the two halves one over the other. In the heat of the moment, his actions had seemed passionate, romantic and needy. Now it was simply annoying that she had so few clothes, and now one less shirt fit to wear. She wrapped her arms around the middle and closed her eyes against the sting of tears. She was weary, it had been a long day with little sleep the night before.
He had kissed her, she had kissed him back. Then they had ventured far beyond such an innocent sugg
