If These Walls Could Talk…
I got my first kiss on the lips when I was about eight years old. That night, I went home and decided since things were heating up in my newfound relationship, that I ought to get to practicing.
I decide the wall is a safe bet and begin to make out with it. Then I start whispering to the wall, pretending it is my third-grade boyfriend. I hear a floorboard creak and look over to see my grandma standing in the doorway.
She backs away, looking down at the ground. This has haunted me for so long and so deeply that I think about it at least once a week. Story credit: Reddit / mrschestnyspurplehat
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