The room smelled of sea salt and so did we. It was patterned in blues and seashells, just that generic ephemera nautica. None of this is what I would have done, but that’s a time share.
Somewhere over the weekend we had been drunk and something happened, I don’t know, to make us more than just two friends getting away from the concrete and steel. If that had been the plan or what, again, I didn’t know, either for my account or hers. Maybe it was just remembering what skin smelled like on a day like this, the kind of thing I’d forgotten about somewhere and needed to be told again.
She was back in her bathing suit that set off her skin so she was all pink and brown, sucking on a hard candy from the restaurant that she had slipped into her jeans pocket without giving to the charity. She always did that small time larceny on the leukemia patient at the cash register because she said it was probably a hoax and someone else would cover her Jolly Rancher eventually out of guilt.
She rolled over and pressed up against me, her skin hot and I knew she was about to realize she was burnt, maybe send me off to find aloe now that things were different, but for now she kissed me with her green apple lips and we didn’t talk at all.
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