She tips her coffee back and forth. Stopping it right before it spills.
“It just wasn’t working,” he says. “You understand, right?” Tip forward. Tip back. Her fork has one bent tine.
“Sure.”
“Abby’s a nice girl,” Lucas says. Nice girl. Pale girl. Paler in his red sheets.
“I’m sure.”
He leans forward. Trying to make contact. Eye contact.
“We’re happy together,” he says. She sees Abby’s eyes. Her half-lidded eyes, sleepy. Disarmed. Where she lies in his red sheets. “That’s nice.”
“Cal?”
“What?”
“Can’t you be happy for me?” The window is wide. It has a white sign that’s backward from the inside. Abby’s eyes are lidded. In his red sheets. Animal rutting in his red sheets.
“Sure, why not?” He smiles. Relieved. Oblivious.
“We can still be friends right?” Oblivious.
“Sure, why not.”
Nihilistic Porcupine 