She found our old photo album, handling it like an artifact from a dusty museum. It smells funny, she said. But that was me digesting dinner.

She felt the sun on her body and woke. He was still sleeping. She saw a mosquito on his shoulder. And tried to figure out how hard to hit it.

I woke up to find a woman in my room. She glowed and wore a gold crown. I am a fairy, she sang. Really? I asked. And then she laughed at me.

He pays for his coffee. She says, Keep it. He refuses. She wonders why she can’t buy his happiness. Soon she’s broke and he’s still unhappy.