"How was it?" someone asked me when I returned.
"How was what?" I replied, already erasing the memory, my spotless mind bathing in sunlight.
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I went up for a last drink and noticed a pair of black Reeboks sitting at the bar. Him! The penis in the bathroom sex equation. Alas, no toilet paper was adhered to his soles. He looked self-satisfied and was laughing with his friends. He slammed money down on the bar and grabbed the beers that he bought them, handing them over one-by-one by their necks, his finger prints near where his friends' lips would be.
I wondered whether he had washed his hands.