Friday, October 16, 2015

Ft. Lauderdale

[Facing me, his legs are crisscrossed. Mine are draped over his thighs as I'm lying back, my head resting on the ledge of the tub.] 

You're blocking the hot water from flowing to me.

[But I don't move. Frustratingly, neither does he. But I knew he wouldn't. That's his way.]

No I don't. 

That doesn't change how the temperature feels.

[He smiles.]

You look like, "Yup, I just had a baby:  Here's my belly and my wine in a disposable cup."

And what?

You can't be tired. 

[I decide to stay in.]

You're leaving me alone to soak in your dirty bath water? 

That's an oxymoron. 

[And he proceeds.]

Regardless, this water is beige. 

That's a pretty color.

(Reading this draft a week later, I'm confused, but these seem to be quotes from that night put on the page in a way that suggests I was going to expand upon them, like this was meant to be an outline for a broader idea; but I can't for the life of me remember or figure out what the end result of this was supposed to be so I have no choice but to publish it like this.)

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