T 3914

By Arjun Basu | Published: May 14, 2011

He sat under the willow and called her and told her he loved her and she laughed and said, You must be sitting under the willow, and hung up

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T 3913

By Arjun Basu | Published: May 14, 2011

We are strangers. Our interests do not align. And so we are alone. Bitter. And she rolls her eyes. I just said I needed shoes, she tells him.

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T 3913

By Arjun Basu | Published: May 14, 2011

And she raises her glass and says, To the chef, and she looks for her husband but he’s in the bathroom and he’s not coming out any time soon.

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T 3912

By Arjun Basu | Published: May 14, 2011

They arrived and surveyed the scene, the implied mayhem of upturned furniture. Half-eaten donuts on the floor. I’m going to cry, a cop said.

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T 3911

By Arjun Basu | Published: May 14, 2011

He brings her some cake. I’m not in the mood, she says. Don’t judge, he replies. She pushes it away. But it’s lemon, he says. And she smiles.

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T 3910

By Arjun Basu | Published: May 14, 2011

There was talk of palm fronds and mushrooms and she quickly realized he was being sincere, not sexual, and she lost interest and it was over.

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T 3909

By Arjun Basu | Published: May 14, 2011

The fart hung in the air, sucking up the oxygen in the room, permeating everything, destroying, but he knew he wasn’t getting the job anyway.

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T 3908

By Arjun Basu | Published: May 14, 2011

And then the massage table gave way to his heft and the masseuse said, Wow, and he was ashamed and thought about the futility of all things.

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T 3907

By Arjun Basu | Published: May 14, 2011

My plate is clean. I was hungry. The waitress says, Good job, and the glow from this validation lights up the room. Oh please, my wife says.

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T 3906

By Arjun Basu | Published: May 14, 2011

I could be tired. He says this without conviction, the possibility hanging there like a discordant note. And so? she asks. And he is. Tired.

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