Twisters

Then I reached for her and she said, Why? and I had no response that might satisfy her, and so I shrugged and retreated and said, I like to.

I’m too old for you, she says. He disagrees and takes her hand. She tells him her age and he sinks in his chair. You weren’t lying, he says.

The birds mock them from the sky. He resents the effortlessness of their locomotion. She lights a cigarette. I’m bad with stress, he thinks.

He hops up to her. Let’s make out, he says. She slaps him. How old are you? she asks. Old enough, he says touching his cheek. Then he cries.