Desert Hot Springs Motel 🌵 *from the archives*

We stayed one night.

She was already at the desert hot springs motel, leaning against her gold car in the gravel parking lot, stamping out a half-used cigarette as I pulled up.

“I got a room for us,” she said.

“Two beds, huh?” I said.

We got into the springs. No one was there. We didn’t talk much. She kept trying other hot pools with different temperatures and salinities. I stayed in the hottest one.

We stayed one night. We talked about our good years. We had sadsex. We went back to the water. We didn’t have much left to say.

“Be well, dear one,” I said in the morning as I closed my car door, turning back to my move across the country.

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Editor’s note: Here’s one of my faves from the distant archives called “Desert Hot Springs Motel,” first published in My Favorite Breakup on Aug. 1, 2021.

This oldie but goodie comes because we are once again (almost) out of new stuff! Reminder: If you send me new stories, there’s a pretty good chance I’ll publish them. Please write down your heartache or fond memz or hard-won lessons or goofiest teen kiss tales and send them in here.