Monday, March 10, 2008


We separated all our things. I let her have all the pots and pans that we bought together, the French press, the rice cooker. I hid in the bathroom as she rooted around in our . . . my bedroom. I could hear drawers opening, furniture dragging, the closet door coming off its track like it always does and thumping on the floor. Muffled cursing. Finally we were in the front hallway. She was making two stacks of books mine and hers. I'm keeping "The Fortress of Solitude" I said. "You don't even like Lethem that much" she said without looking up. "Besides I bought that book in Europe at the train station in London, it has sentimental value." "I like Lethem all right" I said leafing through the book and turning my back to her. "Seriously give me my book" her arm snaked around me to grab the book. I held on and turned around into her kiss, slightly sour and tasting of orange juice and cigarettes. "I'll let you keep VanderMeer's City of Saints and Madmen" she said placing the book carefully on her pile. "How about that?"


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