He was a freemason

I asked, “Was it kinky when they blindfolded you?”

“No.”

“Well, it was for them!”

🍳

The waitress said, when leaving us the check, “Be safe,” and the worrywart who lives in my head is whispering that she was saying that to me.

Why else would she say it? The sky outside the grimy diner window looked partly gray and somber, but it was overall a warm and fresh November morning.

I looked back across the table at the man I was with. I guess we are doomed. Our halfhearted secrecy, his defeated sighs. Those may be red flags, but they look cool and purple when I’m wearing his funky blue shades.

I care to ask myself “What are you doing?” about as much as I care to ask “Are you satisfied?”

I haven’t had easy answers to those questions in a very long time.

He took a photo of me, and I hated her face.

“You’re crazy!” he said.

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