Wonder Bread

“Remember how we used to say nice things to each other?” he said.
“I do,” she said, “We were quite fond then.”
“Fond?” he said.
“You know,” she said.
“I have been purchasing deli sliced cheese all week,” he said.
“And refrigeration?” she said, “Do you refrigerate?”
“Why yes of course and the note on the door my vitamins,” he said.
“Good,” she said, “You look well.”
“Catatonic,” he said.
“I am menstruating,” she said, “I want to kick someone in the crotch.”
“The yellow mostly marigolds are blooming.” he said.
“What are you reading?” she said.
“I am mulching not reading,” he said, “I am reading about a guy mulching his garden.”
“I am smoking grass now,” she said. “They call it weed at my work.”
“Are you high now?” he said, “Stoned, lit?”
“Not so much,” she said, “But there are times.”
“What are you reading?” he said.
“Do you have any money?” she said.
“I have deli sliced and heirloom tomatoes,” he said.
“ I should kick you in the crotch,” she said.
“Would you like a beer a shot?” he said.
“I might a shot I thought you quit,” she said.
“I am reading The Art of Racing in the Rain, Garth Stein,” he said.

So yes there were times, and sure we waded thru the dysfunction relatively unscathed I mean no real scars to speak of… tho there was that retched morning in the kitchen in Olympia yelling in our socks wrestling to NPR and the pop of her knee when we went down. There is that to maybe consider.

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