His parachute didn’t open. Wouldn’t. He saw the ground approaching and he wished he was in a prettier place. He felt hunger. And mild regret.

He climbed out of the muck and walked up to her and he said, Will you sex me? and she said, You’re dirty, and he thought that was the point.

She couldn’t find her shoes. She walked home barefoot. In front of the bakery, she stepped in dog poop. Who’ll lick my toes now? she wailed.

The clouds were over them and she said, This wind is ruining my hair, but she never quite understood humor, and then their boat was consumed.