2057 | drain-o |

She says she does not remember what happened that night so I hint at head and then take it back and she is a twisted mess. I feel guilty, but in the good way that you get from fucking with someone over something not so important. Like it is more fun to watch her squirm over the thing than the thing itself (which may or may not have happened).

Finally she says, "It's all just technicalities and flesh," and I wish I thought of shit like that to say. She wins on that alone but does not know it.

She has a way with words. She shows me something she wrote and it is really good and I know that when I tell her how good it is she will not believe me. She keeps coming back to the thing though, the thing that may or may not have happened, and it squashes the good time we are having. Mostly because she said she was great at that and I said that it was just okay.

She ditches me at the college library that she still has an ID for, the same one where a kid jumped to his death from the tenth floor today. "Again?" she says when I tell her the news. We make masturbation jokes and laugh at people who suck at life, like us, but worse. A student who saw him hit the bottom said she was surprised there was no blood or splatter, just a loud thud.

When I get off the train, I stop in my dinner spot for two blistery empanadas (a buck each, I fucking shit you not) and a tub of red beans. The ladies behind the counter are all related in the tits and do not mind celebrating them. Half smile, half do not. It doesn't matter.

She had asked me at the bar if I had seen hers when we did whatever we did. I was like are you serious? And she said sorry and asked me what I thought of them. I said there was nothing wrong with them. She thinks big is the best, and I told her tittie size is overrated, but I do not think she believed me. It's more about shape. It really is.

I pay for my beans and empanadas and walk up a couple hundred steps to my apartment and sit in the laptop-lit room and type all I have time to type, which is still probably more than people have the time or desire to read. I think about her story and how good it is and I take a bite of blistery empanada and put a period at the end of a long, draw-out sentence with too many conjunctions.