The dawn broke and lit up the dust floating through the house. I said, Look at this filth. She turned away and said, It’s always your fault.
Twisters
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Then I got up and farted. The guests laughed. My wife said, You’re impossible! I knew she meant it. The others thought she was being loving.
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The dogs started barking and he told them to shut up and then the visiting team scored and the barking was over and he stopped liking sports.
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The kid got sassy. His mother said, Who do you think you are? He hasn’t spoken since, not even to the doctor. Who has fallen silent as well.
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We were old men, bald or gray haired, arguing about long lost musical heroes, bemoaning today’s kids, drinking warm beer. Dying reluctantly.
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She says, He doesn’t move his arms when he walks. This bugs her. Later he brings her flowers. There’s something I have to tell you, he says.
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The food is placed on our table and we recognize none of it. Did we order this? I ask. Would you eat that? she asks. We leave to get a room.
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Years went by, and their bed felt smaller and smaller, until it felt like a coffin, and one day she said, You’re killing me, and he knew it.
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The parade ended and we went for ice cream. I hate parades, I sighed. My ice cream slipped the bonds of its cone. That’s karma, she told me.
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It was a long story. I started to tell it, but she looked bored right away. I could go on, I said. She opened her door. Please do, she said.
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