One last pull and I tossed the empty bottle of $6.99 Sauvignon Blanc onto the grass. Your underwear is all bunched up, she said, sliding her long fingers down my jeans, shoving everything back into its proper place. I thanked her, and she said she thought she’d make a good life coach, and the sun dipped further back behind the oaks, and the air turned, and two yellow dogs, one small and one big, investigated every earthbound object in sight.
I got up to take a piss, and when I returned she had moved the blanket into the eternal glimmer of daylight. Christ, she said, it’s like Sweden.
