Spread on the couch, the young woman blended in. He saw her as if she bled love, or emitted it like pheromones. The top button was sliding off, and he saw some light brown skin above her waist. It wasn’t all about sex, but her key eyes as well.

They stared like bricks, and his arms were never strong.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

And she nodded. Her teeth were white like Alaskan beaches.

“If it wasn’t for you, I’d be lost in some charred forest,” he said, “and your anger is so cute, like juji-fruits.”

He snatched her hand, and felt it like jig-saw puzzles.

“Don’t ever pull this back,” he said. And she said, “I don’t like sweet things.” And left.