When I think about it now, I chalk it up to one of those youthful experiences you wince at later — not that it’s something I’m embarrassed by, Karson lied. And not that I’m sorry it happened or anything. Because we did have a good time for a while there, didn’t we?

Constance flung the ladle against the cast iron pot and a hollow echo and the slosh of dirtied water followed her like footsteps out of the room. She slammed the front door behind her. When her father opened it to search after her, he was only met with an accusation of trees—all straight-spined and unwilling to move out of his sightline. He wouldn’t find her standing at the threshold. He wouldn’t chase her either.

It was one in a row of identical doors with identical signs, in front of which sat patients and their relatives. The younger played with their mobile phones, the older amused themselves the old way – by talking. I joined the latter, both on the grounds of my age and inclination. We started with exchanging illnesses and hospital experiences. There was more than a whiff of competition between us, with the grand prix going to the most ill patient.

But what can you do when you’ve ruined the one great love you had because you wanted too much of it? We held out for twelve years before getting horny over nothing, a rock in the sky. The foolishness of human beings respects no boundaries.

As he leaned in, his rifle clattered against the floor of the canoe. Crystal reached for it, a motion Bobby interpreted as consent or surrender. He pressed his lips to hers, his tongue poked out and searched for an opening. Crystal could barely feel it. She felt like she was drifting under the tow of a heavy tide, submerged as the waves hissed over her head.

“Well, spandex is not so much a fabric as a lifestyle. You don’t need spandex to go biking; you need spandex to fulfill a posture. And what is this posture, you ask? This is the posture of the well brought-up, well-adjusted, middle class, which says ‘well’ when you ask them how they are, and scorns anyone who says, ‘I’m good’. It’s the posture of the braindead…”

I’ve decided something: My friends are weird. Who does something like that at a bar?  I always thought after you had a kid, you would be extra proper. No joking. No laughing. No, doing crazy stuff like crawling under a table to get away from being squished into a corner by your two friends. Or, for that matter—standing on a booth seat flapping your arms trying to get a person’s attention.

Dressing a rock and roll chick for burial meant selecting ebony boots, slim black jeans, a silvery button down blouse, and a green beaded bracelet. I hoped she would approve of my fashion choices. I also hoped she would forgive me for not returning to the apartment and taking more of her personal possessions. She was not ready to part with them, as she was not ready to leave this life.

“Do you follow sports?”

“Baseball, the Reds.”

“Who is your favorite player?”

“Joey Votto; he’s a very good hitter.”

La Llorona means The Crying Woman.  Her husband leaves or dies, and she takes her children to the river and drowns them. Those folktales don’t play.

Sam combed his hair carefully in the mirror, though his hair, despite being softer now that he was getting old, was still uncooperative. He didn’t spend much time looking into the mirror these days, as it was not a particularly rewarding experience.