By sean mcnulty
She played piano like the keys were made of water. He drank coffee and tried to reduce the volume of his angst.
She put on sunglasses and turned her head slightly away from the sun, teasing its radiance with her own. He ate a corny breakfast cereal and eyed a wayward woodlice pausing beside his flip-flops.
She slid on someone's newly laid spittle on the floor of the bus and sprained her ankle. He ran as fast as he could when he realised he'd slept in and was late for work.
She noticed a bored security guard playing football with a cigarette butt outside his place of work and she joined in and scored two goals between an empty bottle of beer and a gym-bag. He danced the night away and it never came back.
She believed in miracles. He stood in line at a cash machine knowing exactly how little he would be able to withdraw.
She wore a cosmetic mask every night and slept with the lights on. He trimmed his beard like he was Michelangelo chiselling away at David.
They would eventually run into one another online, arrange a meeting in the physical world, fuck each other faceless for three days, and return happily refreshed to their respective moments.