“Love her,” she said.
They were entirely in agreement. Or so it seemed. The affair lay between them, open; like a dare. There was something irking beneath the tongue; something menacing. A desire to test each other's mettle; to inspect the inner workings; to understand the tick-tock... and what would set it off. She brushed her hair... he sat ready, pensively gripping the sides of his bedroom chair — watching her front and back, as reflected in the mirrored armoire. Together prepping with no particular place to go; They were waiting for something, something definite, palpable, that much was clear:
" 'Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn,'
—Hey, does that sound cold?"
"Like a draft passing through the door..."
" Sure to persist then—"
"Persist like these chapped eyes and ears..."
"Even when we're old."
"...the Carribbean breeze's warm..."
"Hot damp breath will smold'."
"...And these cold gusts keep flames aglow?"