It’ll probably just end up on the side of the road anyway

She said, “This is all ours” and lay on the floor, spreading out her limbs to express her ownership. I lay on top of her, wanting to crawl inside of her, feeling her tremble almost undetectably the way she did before we made love. These are the things I remember at bus stops, in between bites of sandwiches, waiting for the cashier to press a button. We used to drink seasonal beer on the couch; we’d lie every which way, always inventing new comfort positions and teaching each other, getting tangled and giddy. Once she got carried away and spilled her beer on the sofa. She started crying, surprising both of us. Minutes later she was done, and we fell asleep that way. We woke up hours after the sun had set and the small yellow spot on the corner of the couch had dried.

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