No Condoms

The place was haunted. Not by ghosts, but by thoughts. People’s thoughts were projected like holograms. We used to go there. It was the most intimate experience I could think of. Windows and doors to our minds were wide open, our essences spilling out into the tiny shack. Sex seemed silly after that. Although, we sometimes laid in bed and watched our projected sexuality’s make love on the ceiling. It was better. No condoms. I woke up once. She was dreaming and I watched as she was walking along a deserted street looking for something or someone. I carefully followed her.