The lute music CD remained on the phone table for five months though they didn’t have a phone anymore. They didn’t have children either and there were no substitutes.
His friend Paul had given the lute music CD to him as a birthday present. Something different, said the accompanying card. When dusting, she refused to dust the front cover displaying a Flemish print of a bleak country landscape. Even if some part of her happened to like lute music, the CD repelled her because he had ignored it so.
In bed at night she would look at his back. Sometimes he spoke in his sleep. I actually don’t like you, Paul, he said, or, Try to get on top of me.
She wanted to start smoking so she could ash all over his naked, sweating body. She’d be more unhealthy, but a little happier. Things would even out or at least she’d hurt less and he’d hurt more.