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By Arjun Basu | Published: November 11, 2013

My phone starts vibrating in my pocket. She puts her hand on it and says, I would enjoy that a bit too much. And then forget I have a phone.

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By Arjun Basu | Published: November 11, 2013

The dust gets into his lungs and he coughs. She says, I know it’s dirty. He coughs again, and then it’s the asthma. She takes it personally.

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By Arjun Basu | Published: November 11, 2013

And after much planning they met and went out for dinner and she ordered a kale salad, and he said, You’re totally different from your blog.

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By Arjun Basu | Published: November 11, 2013

The rain comes down in a metaphoric rush. She opens the door to wash away the sadness. He calls for another beer. And then she steps outside.

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By Arjun Basu | Published: November 11, 2013

She handed me a photo and I studied the face in it and I said, You used to look so different, and she takes it back and says, That’s not me.

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By Arjun Basu | Published: November 11, 2013

I ordered a pizza. She said, There’s wine in the fridge. She spilled some on her blouse. I said, I’ll do the laundry. She turned into putty.

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By Arjun Basu | Published: November 11, 2013

Because I asked, What does this one do? and didn’t wait for her answer. Because I was once overly unhappy. Because she smelled like cookies.

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By Arjun Basu | Published: November 11, 2013

He left his sweatshirt behind and she stared at it, trying to remember him, and she picked it up and took a sniff and then she threw it out.

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By Arjun Basu | Published: November 11, 2013

He studies her as she sleeps. Even her snoring is graceful. And then it’s not. And then it’s evil. And he searches the floor for his clothes.

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By Arjun Basu | Published: November 11, 2013

I bought her drink and then I talked about love and she said, Too soon sailor, and I told her I got that all the time and then she felt pity.

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