The orange arms of the sunset
embraced them from behind. They sat on the porch of a house on Prospect St.,
edge of the neighborhood, right before a brightly lit downtown. Their beers sat
sweating on the round faux glass patio table where they both had their feet up.
She wiggled her toes covering the Bank of America building with her big toe.
“Do you remember that bit from
SNL?”
“Which one?” he asked.
“Remember, they did that thing with
their fingers and they’d crush someone’s head. They’d say “I crush you!”
She turned to him mashing her index and thumb finger
together her voice deepening in an odd Slavic like accent giggling.
“No,
dork!” He laughed and shook his head.
He reached for his
dewy Heineken. She watched his profile, the Adam at the center of his neck
rolling up and down as he swallowed. It was almost the end of summer and much
of their time had been spent on this porch. She reached for the rainbow colored
glass pipe and lighter on the table, the sound of the lighter igniting and a
deep inhale followed. She passed the pipe to him and he used it to point at the
large two story house across the street.
“How
much do you think that house is?”
“I
don’t know. It depends on the house. Not cheap I’m sure ‘cause of where we
are,” she said voice gritty with exhalation.
“There’s
this dude that lives there. I hardly ever see him, but he seems pretty
friendly. He waves, doesn’t complain when that house gets a little,” he pointed
to the one next to it, “crazy,” he paused as he took a hit, “I wish I could buy
that house though. That would be cool
sit on the top balcony, rent the bottom floor. Just do up keep and shit. It’d
be a cool little deal. You know?”
She was nodding when they heard a loud noise, not a bang or
pop, but a thud that echoed from the very house they had just been talking
about. They turned to look at each other.
“What
the fuck was that?”
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