She didn’t thank him. He read the recipe wrong, but kept asking if they could cut it in half. A quarter at a time from now on. Low dosage. He wasn’t slurring his words anymore. Even the kids said so.
“Greed.”
Fields evoked it in them both. She let herself come. You’re strong again, she said. He put the mirror on the floor and stepped forward. Good thing there was no receipt.
“These weren’t jokes.”
They lived together, submitted as evidence. He wondered. Many nights ahead. There were only so many movies. The noise already lost novelty. He flexed that bicep in unison, one weight gliding up and down in the glass. Some game with Ghost in the title. No scoring, she told him. The ice cream pasted a lock of hair to his cheek, white, blonde, red.
“I’m bored.”
Many hours to bury her. The heat lifted some portion out of each person each day, dissolved it. He smiled. She stood up and left the room. Hyenas. The guide spit and batted the side of the truck with his staff.
“It’s okay to relax into it.”
I don’t do this, I haven’t done, she stopped and nodded. He held the edge of the crib for enough time. He paid her. All lost.
He pressed against her. A famine.
“I’m in work mode.”
He ate faster than her. The last place in their crusade of new places. She asked nicely. He went healthy. The blood crept into a little pile.
“Just go away.”
He had exhausted the cataloging. Any more conversation about it and it felt righteous. It’s just an event. He swept the dirt up with his hand. He rolled over on the carpet, again and again, laughing, so much capacity.
“I’ll only tell you once.”
His left ear rang and felt pressurized. She put her head under. He took the bottle off the floor and held it to his chest with both hands. Go fish. Or was it one?
“Unfortunate.”
The whole process should be simpler, he said. I’d do it if I had the time. Okay, she said. Alright, she said. He felt dizzy. The wood burst away from the door and careened, that gun surfacing out of white. Heat took them. He put his head down and tried not to breathe. The smell. She laughed. They wouldn’t clasp right. Little legs. He was frustrated. The payments were regular.
It instructed them to leave the object at the door. He fingered her, biting his lip. Fingered her.
“Calm down.”
The doctor sighed, nodded. Blues became whites. There were hallways.
“Don’t sit there.”
He led her around the apartment gently, making sure to bump her into things. She laughed. Don’t touch it. When he deemed enough time or loops had passed, he told her to take it off. She did. He knelt. She shook her head no. The child as dark as any of her sisters. The nozzle caps were melted so the whole shipment had to be destroyed. He looked at his hands. He felt capable.
“There’s always more.”
A full term.
At first, whatever he’d seen in National Geographic. He swore. They covered their ears. Nothing clicked. Bombs, all lost to bombs. A field of loose limbs. That’s a ghost, he said. He smiled. They were becoming each other.
It strikes him. The sun held at a distance. He remembered, removed his coat. Tickets left at home. What would happen if he ran out, jumped over and came down on the people below right at crescendo?
“I’ll leave you.”
He put the food down. His life leaked out of him. It’s all ooze, he said. A boy. Then?
“Talk to me.”
He felt the sounds outside his tent continue, a compression, several still thumps. Taut wire. The taste fuzzed on his teeth after he washed his face. He took water for the third time. He kept claiming showers. It’s only fair. She stuck her tongue out and waited. It wasn’t all bloodletting. Someone said a carnival. They called it a shock stick. In and out of sleep, pulled back into the sick repetition, wider with each new lapse, waiting for some plot to fit itself into the ropey anxiety: fire, abandonment, permanent confusion. Numbers recurred. She asked questions about his family during their first holiday together. He knew what his child watched was okay, even with all those hours, because he’d been in that place too. He saw a story. He felt the color of his skin. Epiphanies moved by. Would he stop buying them?
“Aww, baby…”
Dazed children.
Here’s the map. He heard that repeated. What if that shoe was a bomb? He hadn’t read it, so he nodded yes.
“Weird connections.”
The island of dead skin became a castle. He spun the wheel and hoped for the career path. Wouldn’t be long before he had to punch someone. It caused unimaginable pain. He shied away, saw himself shaking. There were no locks. He hung up.
“Take a hit.”
Marveling at the linear transactions that brought him here, wherever.
“How do you top that?”
By putting both your palms out, fingers down, waiting to see if anything went numb. He’d damn someone. Arson still a fantasy. She asked about the clothes. His hands felt soft in comparison.
He became a precursor to his arrival. All in the presentation. I’ll write the book on it, and they laughed. Lunch was burning.
“Do you have any idea?”
He didn’t want a pen. That cloud of things: term, relief, passed, care. He put his two widest fingers in her. Creeping pain, accompanied by some pressure. The chart had a calm face on one side, a ripped face on the other. She slid up and down. The symbols didn’t move. He knew he knew the solution, it was holding right at the front of his brain. She pulled her nipple.
“Stay seated.”
He looked at the list of medications. Jets opening big mouths. Caves, back in the States. We say no vote here. It was French.
“Not all conflicts.”
Soft melodies. He owned up to preaching asymmetry. The room caught fire. She washed him.
I haven’t eaten all day. He wanted to give in to the tingle in the back of his head that he could light by pressing on his eyes with the heel of his hands or by squeezing them shut. Sixty hours.
“Only five minutes, sir.”
He knew it was lost. He reached into his bag and went through his stuff. It’s harder when you’re this tired. Nobody looked anywhere else.
“Best price here.”
She woke him up. The beaches were the same. He closed his eyes, wished for some false memory to provide him something to talk about. A sudden tan. The stump bled.
“Your drink.”
Departure.
He kept his hand open and explained the pennies to her. If he didn’t think closely, he couldn’t separate parts of his childhood from stories he’d been told by friends, or from movies, some book. She laughed.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you.”
Cordon off sections nearest the building first. All I have, he said, and kept reading.
“Hold it gently.”
He looked for songs without quick beginnings. Her fingers got there and he twisted. Like some sort of bucolic nightmare. There were three roads, much less of a fork than he’d imagined. Every package arrived ripped.