She looked at me, her expression flamboyant. The Smith’s Oscillate Wildly plays faintly. I am still a wee bit hungover. She fetches some bubbly and Aloe tabs. It is a muggy afternoon in July. I hear her shuffling shit in the kitchen. Everything she does is loud and exaggerated. My head hurts all the more upon her return.
“Take these,” she demands.
I swish and swallow bubbly, aloe, and the spontaneous addition of papaya enzymes. She begins rambling about current politics. I have resorted to picking a zit on the back of my head. Unfortunately, I must let her feel heard in order for the evening to progress into uninhibited fucking.
Her mourning coffee 