He bought her an ice cream, and she said, Some people would call this love, and he drifted off for a moment and said, Man that’s super cold.
Tagged: Food (993)
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The sun came out and it illuminated everything, even the dirt, and in its warmth lay the grand promise of living. And we went for ice cream.
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I told her I didn’t care anymore. She said, Is it the soup? It wasn’t the soup. It was everything else. It was me. But the soup wasn’t good.
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I ordered a cupcake. My date said, That’s so yesterday. I offered her a bite. Only after I’d realized she wouldn’t be a part of my tomorrow.
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One night we came upon a man with a megaphone. We come from fish, he proclaimed. He smells like fish, my wife joked. That’s me, I whispered.
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We went to the store. I was worried about getting lost. Or worse, of achieving greatness. I just want a hot dog, I wailed. Lost in plumbing.
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He sighs loudly and complains about his mother’s lasagne and his wife realizes something profound about him and says, You’re mom’s a goomba.
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Dessert arrived and I put a piece in her mouth and she moaned. Then she said, This is what love tastes like. And I took that as a compliment.
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We were trouble. We talked about murder like it was eating chips. But regular chips. Not, like, Doritos. Those things are sodium bombs, man.
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And then we ran out of love. The last few years had been about the slow realization of the power of gravity. I really missed her lemon tart.
