MOVED TO SHEWRIT!

     they’ve parked the car underneath the stars, somewhere silent and peaceful. on the radio, miles from nowhere plays, low, sweet. the backseat is stuffed with the best junk food a large appetite can buy: powdered donuts, cereal bars, corn chips, pop-tarts filled to the brim. it’s road trip fuel. 

     “i don’t want to go nowhere except right here with you.” he pauses, laughs a little like they’ve first met, “that didn’t make sense.” 

          there’s an answering smile, then she’s reaching over to tuck one of his hands in between hers, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. she holds his hand in place, gently resting her chin atop it. debora feels like baby could recite the television guidebook to her and it’d still feel like a love song. ‘ make all the nonsense you want, baby. ’ 

          her head tilts by a fraction, so it’s more cheek than chin against his hand.

          “i knew you couldn’t resist this face of mine,” she murmurs, already crouching forward so she can drop her voice. “giant. there’s some sort of gathering happening and i need to get in front of it before shit gets worse.” 

          she snorts. ‘ charming. ’ 

          “Hey! Can you help me? The building, it’s burning doown. Grab one of those cans of kerosene over there. Oh! Oh-ho-haha!”

          she has two choices. continue, walk away. stop, grab a can. there are flames already licking at the frames of every first level window. they look like fractals from here. the paint on his mouth doesn’t look real. neither does he. neither does the can of kerosene.

they’ve already spoken too much for his liking. he curses philz for being shut down for the day, and then himself for opting for human interaction over one virtual, brief, as fucking simple as it fucking should be. gilfoyle sighs again, this time with the hope of being heard and being bothersome.

         ‘ whichever answer puts a fast fucking end to this exchange. ’

          ‘ -- right. got it. ’ 

          before she steps away, as if in afterthought, and only because she’s already made a fair amount of tips this early in the afternoon, there’s one last comment. li raps her knuckles on the cheap, faux wood of the tabletop and points at him. ‘ maybe you should invest in a coffee maker. ’ unsaid: maybe you should have stayed the fuck home.