Side by side
in a third world country where there had not been much music...
After he yelled at her and went to work, she left the dustpan on the dining table, knowing that he would be upset. He had a thing about dirt. What she liked best was his kisses. They allowed homeopathic doses of the whisky he drank. A man had died. He was only twenty-nine, a muscian. The detox program conflicted with medication for epileptic seizure. Her first love was music and her parents were missionaries, and she had been brought up in a third world country where there had not been much music. The poodle had left its white hair on a dark coat so she took it off the hangar and began to brush it with a soft-head toothbrush. When she picked up the phone, it was him. He said that he was at a sale of menswear, an Italian joint, and he wanted her opinion. Could she take the tram down? It was a pale blue jacket. He could not imagine wearing that color but the poodle hairs would not show. They could go to lunch, he said. She told him that it was a blast, his asking her something like that, it really made her day. He did not understand, he said, but was glad that she was happy.