Week #2

he spaced out at the corner. she watched him space and they missed the light. "albert spignoli," she said. "alberta spignola," he replied.

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"i could still use a coffee," emily said. "me, too," spig said. "a pot. of." he pointed at her stood-up date, who rode by in a taxi.

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the taxi screeched to a halt. "i'm too tired to run" spig said. "you're also too tired to fight" em said, tugging his sleeve. "ow" he said.

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spig tumbled off the curb. em shrieked, falling on him. he could feel at least 2 of her fingers, still clutched in his, bent the wrong way.

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"your turn to say ow," spig told her. "that's not funny," she said, laughing through her tears and loving him for it. "please don't let go."

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emily's date loomed over them. "i, uh...what's your name, again?" spig asked. the man looked at em, raised his eyebrows. she said, "help?"

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spig and the stiffed-date rode in back. he could hear em grit her teeth up front. the cabbie said "who's the good guy?" emily said "you."