T 5045

By Arjun Basu | Published: November 19, 2011

Then the wine took hold. It was almost as if one could hear the moment they both lost their inhibitions. I hate your hairy mole, he told her.

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T 5044

By Arjun Basu | Published: November 19, 2011

His sweater smelled like last night. She nudged him. What’s this? she asked. Cashmere, he mumbled. She had to admit, that was a good answer.

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T 5043

By Arjun Basu | Published: November 19, 2011

She was tall. And then she wore heels. Why? he wondered. She noticed him lost in thought. I’m trying to blame my mom for this, he explained.

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T 5042

By Arjun Basu | Published: November 19, 2011

He’s curious about her freckles. About the geography of them. Your freckles are like a gateway drug, he says. I don’t do drugs, she replies.

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T 5041

By Arjun Basu | Published: November 19, 2011

Fashionable women drinking a charming pinot from Oregon, laughing about trinkets bought in Bali, but complaining, angrily, about loneliness.

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T 5040

By Arjun Basu | Published: November 19, 2011

He pours a bourbon and she says, It’s a little early, no? and he smiles and says, I’m sore. And she reaches for the coffee. So sore, he says.

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T 5039

By Arjun Basu | Published: November 19, 2011

He says, I was so stoned I was, like, in a coma, and then he notices his parents and then a study in the very definition of awkward silence.

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T 5038

By Arjun Basu | Published: November 19, 2011

She’s cute, and he runs up and within a few minutes she’s talked about vegan cupcakes and craftbooking, and he runs away to call “the guys.”

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T 5037

By Arjun Basu | Published: November 19, 2011

Explosion. Flashback. Love interest. Montage. Travel. Car chase. Flashback. Sex scene. Explosion. Death. Vengeance. Explosion. Justice. End.

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T 5036

By Arjun Basu | Published: November 19, 2011

And then the dog licked his foot, and he woke and said, OK, and she opened her eyes and mumbled, Norwegian Wood, and he said, It’s your dog.

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