And then she slapped me with my belt and I learned something about myself then and I thanked her, and I understood that pain made me hungry.
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I got stomach flu from dim sum and I called up the restaurant and got into an argument about gunpowder because the Chinese guy held a grudge.
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I cover the bed in flowers, in reds and oranges, and she calls and says, I have to work late again, and I pump my fist, and turn on the game.
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We did not hold back in any way at the all-you-can-eat buffet and then for dessert she chose some fruit, and we broke up in the parking lot.
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I say, It’s too much lavender, because it is. She says, I don’t trust guys who know what lavender smells like. So we’re stuck in a bad place.
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He saw the proof of her hatred everywhere; broken flowers in an unending field of bile. This was the air he breathed. Explaining his asthma.
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We get in the car. Buckle up, I say. We’re in Nevada, she says. And I shrug, and drive toward the horizon, or a cliff, whatever comes first.
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I asked if I could buy her a drink. She asked my name and I told her. She took out her phone and Googled me. You can’t talk to me, she said.
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He suffered a breakdown at work. He filled his swimming pool with paper. And alerted the media. Don’t fish me out, he said before diving in.
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He describes the wine as earthy. She puns mirth with dirt. He finds that “as funny as murder.” She says “you kill me.” And they are married.
