“I don’t want to talk about the flowers on my dress, no,” she said while whisking her hair in whatever way.
He just had to hold her hand and muttered, “It’s not the print I’m interested in, you know?” He shakes his head, eyes fixed on the floor, and thinks about approval. “Think of all the people.”
“Couldn’t you do better?” she asks and may have looked at him, “You could do better.”
“What are you even talking about, am I not even…” he hesitates honing in the heat of this scene, “Better… better… let’s stop eating meat.”
Growing her hair gray, maybe, she turned, not meeting his eye level, and says, “Let’s play divorce for 15 more minutes and get some beer, okay?”
“Okay. New sheriff back in town?” he asks without cracking a smile.
She scrunches her noise and eyes, starts to cry; it’s borderline convincing as she yells, “It’s usually your fault, but —” He bursts into laughter, as she gets up, washes her face, puts on her pants, and says, “Let’s get the cheap shit, I’m not particular for taste.”
• Giant Claw: http://giantclaw.bandcamp.com