We’re walking. She walks. Everywhere. It’s as if she doesn’t know cars exist. Can we take a break? I ask. Now everything makes sense to her.
Twisters
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Another procedure. Your face is so malleable, I tell her as she pours some wine. Just like your personality, she says. Then our story began.
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The hat was too tight. It hurt his head to wear it. But it looked damn cool. He bought it. And suffered brain damage. A culling of the herd.
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He comes home with a double sausage pizza, just as she comes downstairs in her new neglige. Hi, she says. Don’t make me choose, he whimpers.
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He slides off her and she punches him. That’s the best I can do, he sighs. And she mocks him. Hard. He knows he deserves it. He always does.
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We had a fight. She said, Your weakness is getting stronger. I bit into a banana. I liked you better when you were socially awkward, I said.
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This store smells like a diaper bin. They sell old cheeses, she tells me. She’s mesmerized by the odor. We’ll probably never have sex again.
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She starts shouting at me. Then she puts her things in a suitcase. Don’t leave, I tell her. But she leaves. Because she never listens to me.
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I didn’t tell anyone about my past lives. History lived in me. Then I told my girlfriend. Right after I’d used her toilet for the first time.
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I couldn’t stop laughing. I had to leave the restaurant. She came running after me. You’re too old to still call hot dogs weiners, she said.
