Twisters

The house could be a home. Their home. But for one thing. This place smells like pain, she said sadly. He, however, had no problem with that.

It was a large elevator, but she still saw me look her over as she walked in. She came and stood beside me. And she said, You can’t have it.

The sun illuminates a world of promise. Of beauty. The grass shines greener. They take off their shoes. I have the ugliest ankles, he sighs.

She got the letter in the mail and in it he proclaimed something almost spiritual, and she sent him a text message and said, Who sends mail?

He eyes her wearily and she walks over to him and says, Am I that bad? He wants to run away, but he says, I’m just old. And then she smiles.

We were driving away from things. The rifle in the trunk was still warm. We’re chasing the horizon, she said. Don’t be so stupid, I replied.