The laughter came from the old men, belly laughs that jiggled with grand prosperity. But the hipster was angry. His suspenders were ironic.

He came home and found her waiting and he said, I can explain, and she felt his pants and said, They feel hot, and he knew that wasn’t good.

The wine was disgusting, but no one ate at the restaurant for its wine list. It was the maitre d’s wife. And what she did with the bottles.