Annelie’s cunt was a labyrinth and she didn’t know how to respond when guys told her they couldn’t figure her out. She felt she was a straightforward person.
Sometimes, Annelie would time them, but it turned out that ”three hours, 15 minutes” wasn’t the right way to respond either. There was no monster at the heart of the labyrinth, but they all acted like it. They all acted like she was the labyrinth, like her emotions were as mazelike.
The solution, obvious in hindsight, was a woman named Liz. Her fingers were deft, and she was not prone to metaphor.