She couldn’t stop staring at him. He felt self-conscious. Finally, she walked over. You have such small ears, she said. He crossed his legs.

He says something that sets her off and she yells and he shrugs and her anger grows and then she throws a plate and he says, That’s not love

He shouldn’t have worn the black shirt. Not today. And she wants to like him, but she knows she never can. The ads are right, she tells him.

He’d paid a lot for the seat but the flight was awful. He tried to drink his troubles away. But still the man in front wouldn’t stop farting