Wait for me naked.

One afternoon in winter, the listless sunlight fell softly on my shoulder, while the cold wind stung my face and hurt a little. The withered yellow leaves fell off like scabs from a wound being peeled off. I had just come out from an interview at a private company, and was walking down the street feeling deflated. Shit, since being laid off six years ago, this was already the 101st time I've gone for an interview. That female examiner, her face full of freckles, her mouth wide open like a cavern, her head shaped like a gourd, actually asked me brazenly with a lecherous look: how many times do you have intercourse in a month? Shit! "When one has enough to eat and is warm, one thinks of lust", but I don't even have enough food, where do I get the energy for that!