Lustysouls Today

Worse.

“The LustySouls,” Solace said, gesturing to the mirror. “That’s what we call people like you. Not bad people. Just… hungry. Your soul has a taste. A flavor. Mine is salt and vanilla. Yours is burnt cedar and rain.”

She led him past the velvet rope, past the bar where drinks bled colors that didn’t exist in nature, and into a back room lit by a single red bulb. A mirror covered one wall, but it didn’t show their reflections. Instead, it showed a slow slideshow of every person Leo had ever desired—girlfriends, strangers on trains, his wife in the morning light, even a high school crush he’d buried so deep he’d forgotten her name. lustysouls

He tried to remember his wife’s laugh. Nothing. Her face. Static. The way she said his name when she was tired. Gone . He scrambled for any warmth they had shared, but the shelf of his heart was empty. He remembered the arguments, the silences, the day she packed her bags. But the lust—the glue that had made the hard years bearable—had been siphoned away.

Leo froze. He had never told anyone that. Not bad people

He thought of his wife’s face—what little remained of it—and felt a new kind of hunger.

That’s where he met her.

“Yes,” he whispered.