“I know,” she said, “right?”

“Yeah.”

They’d been through this six times since they’d met. He’d been through her more than as many times. She, as many times through with him.

“It starts,” he said, “with the ghosts.”

“Right,” she said. “Then the wolves.”

He looked her over for a minute, the sort of look that said every bit of what he was going to say next without his having to say it. So, when he said, “I wanna fuck you,” there was no surprise.

“Like now?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Like here.”

She smiled humorlessly. “I figured.”

“No mystery,” he admitted.

“Right,” she said.

They’d been up and down this stretch of road, seen the sights.

Timestamp: 02.03.08 at 08:44 PM. Filed under: Fiction.