of course this is the end, he
mumbles, i can not stand
you anymore.
his hands jit-
ter against her skin, leather
on lace, as she tries to turn
away - but his feet are all
caught up around her bare
ankles, and she falls in a
burst of satin. looking up,
he is there, the sun in his
golden throne of her oak
kitchen chair, laughing at
her legs spread and scatt-
ered on the linoleum floor.