I’m on vacation from thinking about the future. All I have to do is lay in bed with her watching a stupid movie. When she goes to piss her dog gets on the bed. Her pug, Cinnamon. Cinnamon is not allowed here but I don’t know that, so I call Cinnamon, because the bed’s lonely without Susannah. And Cinnamon jumps up and instead of reclining serenely by my side like a faithful hunting hound in a painting, like I imagined, Cinnamon runs up my leg on to my stomach, plants her back foot into my nuts, and then circles and circles on my belly like she’s trying to become one with me. Like she’s tunneling into my body to be close to me. Then she climbs up my chest and sits on my face, then stands on my forehead trying to lick my eyes while I squirm laughing. I hear the toilet flush and the faucet run for a second and Susannah comes back in and yells at Cinnamon to get off the bed. She knows she’s not supposed to be there, she says. But oh God she thinks she doesn’t have to listen to me now because you’re a man.
I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.
delicioustacos 