Twisters

Yesterday. And then today. He wants tomorrow, too. But she is unsure. I like dogs, he says suddenly. And he barks. And there is no tomorrow.

He won the lottery and paid two million people to stand in a field and talk at once. He filmed it and called it The Problem. No one watched.

She tripped and held out her hand. I used to care, he sighed. And she narrowed her eyes until lasers came out and he was burned to charcoal.

She feels something on her leg. An umbrella. Belonging to a rather handsome man. You have a run in your stockings, he says. Without passion.