He looks at her with big blue hurt
eyes under a shaggy mop of sandy hair.
What
happened? He says.
I don’t know, she says and looks in the
other direction. They went out for something, its takes her a few minutes to
remember what but she must pretend that she knows. Pretending to remember,
remembering to forget.
I
have to make sure you’re ok. He says.
I’m
fine. The words are thin and insipid and hopeless.
Do I
have to look for more bottles around the house? He
says.
No. She looks down in shame and self-loathing.
Waiting for him to leave.
