Немолодожены

I require him to turn on the television or play some music every time I use the restroom.

Because I am a lady, obviously.

“Someone explain to me the physics of my suitcase weighing approximately fifty pounds more when I leave than it did when I arrived"

She’s candy-sweet at the surface and probably terrible at communicating negative emotions. Meanwhile, I’m like a sour patch kid on the surface, but will happily detail all the ways I think the world is going to hell.

“No, but really,” he amends with a smile, “I was enjoying watching. I liked seeing you put your clothes back on.”
“One would think the undressing part would be the highlight.”

He tastes like cheap alcohol and contradictions, but it is still hands-down the best kiss of my life.

His eyes dart from the horizon to my red bikini and back again.
“I saw that,” I say.
He sips his drink. “Saw what?”
“You checked out my chest.”
“Of course I did. It’s like having two other people up here with us. I don’t want to be rude.”

“I’m a black cat,” I remind him. “A broken mirror.”

Winning makes you feel like a winner, and then somehow . . . you keep winning