I moved her hair from her face. That’s my shield, she laughed, her voice barely audible. I squeezed a zit on her forehead. Only out of love.

The boat drifted through the night and come the dawn they understood the enormity of their problem. But what if I have to poo? she asked him.

The sun kissed the horizon and we drove toward the burnt orange sky. She turned up the volume on the radio. And I said, This is how it ends.

We found each other as the Revolution wound down and the New slowly replaced the Old. But when we kissed in the New manner it totally sucked.

In my sadness, we discussed: How ugly my father became. What this said about me. The ambivalence of my courage. The manner in which I drove.