Twisters

He catches her kissing her laptop. He says, You love that thing too much. She says, Send me a Tweet. And he does. And she reads it. And cries.

Some days we sit around and recall things that define us. That brought us here. Now. When did I step in shit? I ask. Not for the first time.

We sat by a tree and worshipped it like Druids. I stuck Cheetos up my nostrils and made grunting sounds. Then it was over. And the sun rose.

He told a bad joke and he heard forced laughter and the room slowly emptied and he said, Where’s the love? and he took note of the furniture.

They drove to the farm and he said, I told you it was beautiful. It smells overly funky, she replied. He held his tongue. He loved the smell.