T 5646

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

Regret hovered in the air like a morning’s fog. Or smoke. From the barbecue. And the burnt chicken. Burnt because of inappropriate flirting.

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T 5645

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

He steps out of the café and lights a smoke. She follows him and says, You disappoint me. He picks the falafel out of his teeth. And coughs.

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T 5644

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

This isn’t fettuccine, he says and he crosses his hands and pouts, and she rolls her eyes. So I changed things, she says. And then he cries.

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T 5643

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

He thought the moment right and he leaned in for a kiss. She pulled back and said, I don’t love you like that. And he said, Statistics suck.

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T 5641

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

I stumbled upon a comfortable level of unhappiness. I went out and attempted to seduce a young lady. Her mother proved a satisfactory Plan B.

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T 5640

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

My father was a butcher. My mother was a vegetarian. I’m so tired of that excuse, my wife complains. Even though it’s the only excuse I have.

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T 5639

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

I reached for the bill. I’ll get this, I said and she looked annoyed. I said, I won’t expect anything. And she said, That’s why I’m annoyed.

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T 5638

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

You want to call the kids fuckhead but you were one too, once, maybe you still are, plus you once said it was a bad word despite its beauty.

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T 5637

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

The sweater is too large. She says, You’ll grow into it. I tell her I’m an adult. We even do adult things together. Then she bakes me a cake.

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T 5636

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

I wish my new neighbor would put up her curtains. I enjoy watching her fix up her place. But I may fall in love and my wife won’t like that.

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