“Who’s a smelly boy?” she asks. The dog lets out a small bark and licks her nose in reply.
“You’ve got manky fish on you now,” I say while sitting myself down at my desk.
“Doesn’t matter,” she says, “I’ll wash myself after I wash him.”
Swigging my beer, I bring my feet up and rest them on the corner of the desk. Leaning back in the swivel chair we recovered from a skip several months ago in a better part of town, I think of all the things I can write knowing the chances of putting down anything decent will be thin on the ground. It’s not through a lack of trying, but I only seem to write anything good when I’m alone, and even though Meeko won’t be in the same room, that she’s nearby will put me too much on edge to concentrate. Still, I’ll use whatever time I can to the best of my ability. Watching her carry the dog into the bathroom, she returns soon after and comes over. Playing with the curls of my hair, she drinks some of my beer as I slowly drift into a realm where no one can find me. Beer is a lubricant, and with each mouthful, the more I disappear to a place free of chains.
“I won’t rush, so, y’know, you can have a run with whatever you decide to write.”
I hear her, although it takes me several seconds to respond.
“Thank you. If I can put down the outline for an idea, I can go with it properly over the weekend when I’m not at work.”
Massaging my scalp, she lingers as my eyes begin to flutter.
“Maybe when I’m clean, you can take your photo?”
Not understanding, I look at her confused.
“Photo?” I ask.
“Of my pussy.”
“Oh,” I reply, “that one.”
“Like I’d be referring to another. Once you’ve taken it, you can fetch us some fried chicken. I’m sure our new friend will enjoy a hot meal in him.”
Smiling at her, she places her hand upon my face and kisses my hair before waltzing into the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, I hear her talking to the dog and then putting the radio on. Shutting my eyes, I make out the chords of a Beatles song. It’s the one that never seems to end. No, not Hey Jude, but She’s So Heavy. As the beer swirls in my belly and the sun pinches my flesh, I seek out emotion and words, and the more I drift away, the more they come together in the palm of my hand like two tiny figures skating the outlines of an infinity symbol on a thin sheet of ice. Y’know, like in one of those snow globes you get at Christmas. Hearing Meeko turn on the shower, in my mind, the beads of falling water are like soft balls of snow, and as I imagine them swirling around her hips, saliva drips from the corner of my mouth before sizzling on the floorboards at my feet.