When she disappeared, we all wondered if she would be missed, for real, or if we would go for fake emotion. We went for fake. It was easier.

She smiled at me and then I sat next to her and ordered a drink and said, Your skin has remarkable topography, and I went home alone, again.

I disagreed with her. I did this without reservation and she turned her malice into a building. Into real estate. And I was condemned. Alas.

I play the piano, he says. The wind howls in the background. I feel so cold, she says, and he goes to hold her, and she says, Don’t play me.

And then she farted. He recoiled. That was almost on my face, he laughed. And she felt too vulnerable. Too naked. Can we stop now? she asked.

The mayor wants to shut down The World’s Last Library, replace it with another retail/condo development, and he’ll get his way just because.