123456789 guy

The first night she met him, she doused him with her plastic glitter wands.

"One side breath, one side life."

The skin on his back flared like gills on a dragon.

The second time she met him he turned up with two canvas stretches, and some

familiar old paint tones.

He wore nude in the kitchen. She wrapped a plastic bonnet wearing kitten ears

jeweled on to it atop him. He muttered nothing that told her something. She dragged

him, that way, to her garage. He hoisted her atop the counter.

She had painted a glorious splotch of every color, with bronze. One swathe of white

canvas shone through the upper right corner. She left it that way.

He played the night of the 7 selves for the entire summer.

She could never figure out exactly who he was.

On the very last night, three months later…

He invited her to a DJ party.

She declined.

In the morning, he didn’t answer his phone, or ever call her again.

But …

On her voicemail, he had left there 4 messages.

She called each one back, through the voicemail option.

His voice, cartoonish, answered every time. He would hold a brief conversation back at

her, eventually inviting her to a party.

She called again. She changed the tone. His voice would playback, and invite her to

a party.

Had she, finally, figured him out.

He never answered through dial tone to his line again. He never called her again.

Some sort of obviously automated love story.

“1234 I’ll never see you again, but I’ll love you every time 1234 ever more. “