“I’ll get you more beer,” she murmured as she kissed him on his sweaty forehead, the screen door slammed shut, and she never came back. He waited for hours. At first it wasn’t so bad: he watched a baseball game and then he took a nap. When he awoke from his apricot dreams, the streetlights had come on, the heat had broken, and the hum of the crickets had pressed in through the screen doors. There might still be a few cold bottles in the fridge. But she wasn’t coming back.


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