Hostel

My only son lives twenty minutes away. He believes I spent his inheritance on my own misery and he is correct. He runs an inn and sleeps with the guests when they cannot pay. I envy him, but I do not miss him. I have not had sex in the eight years since my wife died. I have done nothing but make candles. Sometimes while I make the candles I watch pornographic videos. I like the way the wax twirls in my hands while the women remove their thongs. Sometimes I hold handfuls of soft wax in front of me like I am cupping their tits. Other times I pour the wax onto my stomach to hear myself react. If my neighbor’s cat shows up I become embarrassed and throw hot water at her. (cont. at Titular)