Wednesday, September 1

back to your scheduled programming


We are at Home Depot picking out things. Paint. Counters. Wood for jumps. Showers.

We want a big one so we are looking at shower/bath hybrids. "I like this one," he says. One with lots of lines, plenty of places to loose your razor.

"Hurt my back if you fucked me in that one," I say.

He looks at me with surprise (rare occurrance). He is thinking, Oh, shit, I don't think this is Home Depot conversation.

We move on. "Too small," I say, and touch my tongue to my canine.

He sees. We keep going anyway, his arm around me protectively. We don't find the perfect shower. It doesn't exist.

In the car ride home we debate paint colors. His hand is sliding up and down my arm and he asks what I want for dinner. I say something. He smiles like he's going to cry.

At home we don't go in the shower that doesn't hurt my back. We eat and we tease, and then we go to bed. He says he loves me more times than he needs to and then he leaves, I think he really is crying but I know he wouldn't want me to see.

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