“Leave my heart out of it,” she says, “you’re not bringing him up. I won’t allow it.” Looking down at the dog who in turn looks at me, I notice there’s blood on his front paws. Kneeling by his side again, I take his right one in my hand and inspect it. Going on to… Read more

Approaching the dog as he’s finishing the last of the spoiled fish, he doesn’t appear to notice me as I kneel down beside him doing my best not to spill any of the beer. On any other occasion, I’d feel self-conscious about being outside looking such a mess, and yet this is a pleasant exception.… Read more

“Should I give him a bowl of water or a bowl of beer?” I ask. “Either,” she says, “although I think he’d prefer beer, especially in this heat. It’ll help take the edge of his thirst, the poor boy.” Letting my hand linger on the small of her back, I return to the kitchen and… Read more

“You must’ve tossed it outside,” she says while flicking a few random curls of hair from her eyes. In the light, those eyes appear as black as milkless coffee, and as they bore into me, the ache in my balls tingles and pings as if I’m on the precipice of an orgasm. “I wonder if… Read more

Upon cracking her skull on the frame of the window, she falls to the floor in a heap. Reaching down, I pat her and ask if she’s okay. It’s a patronising pat; one I repeat until she comes to her senses. “Dickhead,” she snaps. “There’s no need to be like that,” I say with a… Read more

Shrieking as I press the cold bottle of beer against her flesh, I grin while taking a sip from my own. “Idiot!” she proclaims before grabbing the bottle and bringing it to her lips. Chugging it down as if it were water, she burps in my face and then wipes her mouth with the back… Read more

“I see that dog all the time now,” she says, “he hangs around watching those coming and going from the stores and apartment blocks.” “What do you think he’s up to?” I ask. “I’m not sure,” she replies, “he could be a stray, or he could be one of those dogs that spends its days… Read more

She smells of leaves. Wet Leaves. Wet leaves drying beneath the sun on a sidewalk far from the gaze of passers-by. Such leaves are crinkly and delicate and brittle to touch and are more beautiful for it. Sniffing behind her ear, I’m taken back to some lost autumn from my childhood, and to a field… Read more

“Come hold me,” she says, and just like that, I snap from my fugue state and wrap my arms around her waist. “Do you want to go out? Or shall we stay in and watch the world go by?” Her question isn’t a question at all. Neither of us wishes to go out. There’s enough… Read more