Drop #90: Provence

‘I have grown less naive over the years,’ she said, turning off the TV.


‘And I kind of miss the convenience of stupidity.’

‘So what?’

‘Come on. Don’t use that dismissive tone. I don’t like it.’

‘Well, there’s plenty about you I don’t like either.’

‘Now you’re just being mean.’

‘It’s what I’m good at.’

‘Tell me, Hayden. What exactly do you like about me?’

‘Your neck, breasts and collarbone, and that you usually don’t ask such stupid questions.’

‘You’re such a weirdo.’

‘Am I now?’

‘Yeah, I wouldn’t be with you if you weren’t.’

‘Remind me to make a note of that.’

Hayden folded a fried chicken receipt and started picking his teeth with it. Through the 21st floor window a man jumped rope on a balcony across the way. Down on street level, two children wearing oversized backpacks chased each other, almost knocking over a woman in a fur coat. The one caught the other at a red light, hitting him twice on the arm as both laughed.

‘Oh, let’s move to Provence,’ Jane whined. ‘Please! I want to paint there and eat there, and let the sunshine change me.’

‘Sure. We’ll ride there on our purple unicorns.’

‘I’m serious!’

‘So am I—and speaking of which: they’re probably hungry. Would you step out and pick up some magic yams, oh, and get a newspaper while you’re at it?’

‘You’re such a dick.’

‘Or am I an asshole? Think about it while you pick up the paper.’

 By E.M. Vireo


About EM Vireo
flooding the world with fiction

2 Responses to Drop #90: Provence

  1. What’s worse, though – a dick or an asshole?

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