When he picks her up, she feels all the love in the world in his arms. He says, I can’t put you down. And he can’t. His back is killing him.
Twisters
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The clouds gather above us, threatening inundation. We share a collective thought, so strong it rustles the leaves. And so the funeral ends.
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I bought her a drink. She stared at me. She said, You might be good looking. I took that. I needed to. Since the night had already felt long.
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A crowd had gathered around me and I was making them laugh so hard. I told a final joke and a woman said, I didn’t realize you were that sad.
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I said, I don’t know, and then she started breaking things and threatening injury and I said relax and she said, I asked you if you loved me.
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He promised her the world. Then he took her out for a burger. Way to manage expectations, she said. It was something he’d learned in school.
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The news was tough to watch. He turned off the television and took her hand. She pulled it away. You don’t respect my liberty, she told him.
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She’s staring at me, to the point of making me self-conscious, and now she’s walking toward me and she says, I used to follow you on Twitter.
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She calls me, and we make small talk. Finally she asks: What are you doing? I’m reading a book, I tell her. And then she says, You’re weird.
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The sommelier brought the wine to the table and took a sniff. It’s corked, he said, angrily. It’s what I deserve, I said, offering my glass.
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