‘Hey, I’m sorry about Chivalry.”
” I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Sure, of course , I just wanted you to know – ”
“Yeah. Ok. I get it. Thanks.”
I wish I had a door to slam in his face but it’s a loft. I don’t want him here but the calendar hasn’t cooperated and this is his weekend with our dad. I’m with my dad every weekend because my mother is dead. Demian is a product of my father’s misguided grief.
I’ve asked Demiam to stop commenting on the “irony” of my dog’s death.
“I mean c’mon,” he starts, ” you knew the day would come you’d have to say..” I charge at him pushing him backwards out of the room. “Shut. Up!”
“Stop pushing me! It was just a dog.”
I stop pushing and I pull him in close,
“I will scoop your bastard eyes out with my thumbs if you do not shut the fuck up right now.”  The words shoot out my mouth like bullets and lodge in the soft flesh of Demian’s feelings. I don’t care.

8 min on the F train Tuesday night 5.27.14
prompted by a chivalrous young man during rush hour


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