"Thank you for the cigarettes."
"You're welcome. Why did you come here for?"
I am growing paralytic with desire.
"I forgot the name of that band…"
I can't do this.
Her face was angular and emotionless.
I'm weak. I can never tell her.
"The one that sings-" and she broke into a failing chorus line, dara-doom doom, da-ra-da-doom…
"I'm trying to think…" he said.
I can't think.
She looked in his direction. He retracted the little of face he had left from the light.
"I am so tired." she said.
Please don't be tired. I love you.
"I'm boring you."
"You're not boring me."
Her hand dropping by his side.
"You could never bore me," she continued. Her voice weak. Her jaw tough.
She has no idea.
"I better head off soon."
"I'm not kicking you out. You can stay for as long as you want."
She's being polite.
"You know me. I would tell you if I wanted you to leave."
The bias-cut statement, inviting duplicity.
I want to kiss you.
"Could I sleep here?"
She barely hesitated.
Straddle you against the floor. Your hair randomly tossed to the side.
"The guest room's empty. The bed's made I'm sure."
"Sounds good to me," he replied, turning the frustration into measured enthusiasm.
"All right. I need to sleep. You know your way upstairs."