Week #5

across the street, in a 3rd floor apartment, a woman sketched them on a paper plate. opened the window. let it sail. backed into the dark.

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the plate fell to the street. theo went and picked it up. turned around. smiled. a car horn sounded. tires screeched. em covered her eyes...

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theo pelvic-thrusted to safety. the car brushed his jacket and sped on. he stood there like a less-than sign, wheeling his arms for balance.

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em uncovered her eyes. "please, get out of the road," she said. theo sat again, handing her the plate. she smiled and looked up at the sky.

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the sketch, in pencil, captured their embrace on the sidewalk, em crying, spig with his fingers laced through those of emily's good hand.

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they looked up at the windows across the street, trying to locate the artist, who basked in the dark and thought: i have three good friends.

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em sighed, teetering. "this is quite possibly the best and worst afternoon of my life" she told spig. "better even than when you died."