We ate the burgers with a kind of lust. Like the chicken eating in Tom Jones. But with burgers. I licked some juice from her chin. I had to.
Twisters
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She was packing and he sat in his chair taking it in. I don’t know what to take, she sighed. I knew I wasn’t the best you could do, he said.
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We got so drunk and sang like a band of monkeys signalling danger and when the dawn broke we went our separate ways to do more simian things.
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Last night, she’d asked me to be honest for once. This morning, I told her I didn’t like her shoes. Tomorrow, she will call me too negative.
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The coffee is weak, like a song without a melody, that’s what I say, but the waitress has heard it before, though not as poorly as I put it.
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I had been picking my nose. The sexiest woman in the office entered the elevator. I had a booger on my finger; the cologne had been a waste.
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She calls it an accordion but I call it a squeeze box and she says that’s just my method and she calls me a softball. Then we eat breakfast.
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The air around us is electric enough to create lightning. I try for a joke but it’s limp on arrival. You don’t get how upset I am, she says.
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The new hire storms into my office wearing a parka. I deserve a promotion, he yells. It’s summer outside. I didn’t say overdress, I clarify.
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And the kiss is acknowledged, as an outcome, but then he sneezes and she says, You look older than you seem, and his pucker turns to a pout.
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