I don't like the fit of my pants, I think. She is wearing a black dress. Probable that it is her favorite. She often mentions her closet, her designer clothes, but they go unnoticed. She owns many, but this particular dress she wears more frequently.
She is in a good mood.
Her life is falling apart.

Where to next, she thought.

What is this now, I think.

We are sitting at a restaurant downtown. I order my second beer. Our waitress leaves us to our thoughts. I sip my beer and wait for her to speak. She takes a sip of her water. I can see that she is tapped out.

Drained.

Purity is filtered.

I rest my hand on top of hers. She keeps her eyes on her glass. The past month she has not made eye contact when I touch her. She keeps her eyes closed when we have ***. It would be silly of her to close her eyes and picture me while we ****, but a man can dream, right? I remove my hand. I sip my beer and wait for her to speak. She takes a sip of her water.

"Are your eyes open when you **** him?" I ask.

She does not falter. She orders a gin and tonic. Our waitress leaves us to our thoughts.
I sip my beer and wait for her answer.