Guests

Today I went to the deli with Wonderful Farm Woman, who knows a good deal when she sees one. We had the great good fortune of having slept well and very peacefully so that our vision was exquisitely clear and we were not prone to mistake-making. She ordered The Egg and I the Chantilly Swiss. The deli is a favorite place of mine because it has several small tables, which allow for a moment of rest but do not invite a sense of defeat. Wonderful Farm Woman has hands as big as cats, of course, and needed but one to eat The Egg. The air, pointilist in its particulates, inspired vague pangs of guilt on my part. "Well," I said, "I have to go to work."
Following significant and perhaps unnecessarily gut-wrenching deliberation, I returned home after not being there, because, of course, I had gone to work. I soon learned that Glorious Old Chum had taken Wonderful Farm Woman to the train, but, to my delight, had decided not to board in an effort to prove that "he still had it." What a surprising person you are! I thought but didn't say because the use of my voice occasionally exhausts me. Glorious Old Chum had nothing to say to me either and as a result almost certainly regretted his decision to break into my apartment and then greet me with arms flung wide and face aglow. Through a haze of indescribably deep emotional pain I suggested that we reminisce. I wondered, secretly, for Glorious Old Chum is admirably health conscious, how to subvert my biorhythms. Over the next several hours I became morally twisted by my lust for power over physiology, until at a certain point Glorious Old Chum became quite disenchanted with my uncontrolled facial expressions and left, as politely as he could.