A Place Where Things Join, Seven

“Come here, you goose,” said Kel, reaching blindly behind him to grab a hunk of pale, bare leg beneath her dress. “I have no idea what her photos are like, you would have as much an idea as me.” Marian brought round her leg, resting her thighs on his shoulders. She squeezed gently and watched his pink hue deepen; his neck, his cheeks bulge. He tapped out and she laughed. After a moment of quiet daytime television and commercials he began kissing her calf, holding it, curiously, like the fore-end of one of his guns, and he smelt her skin, caressed it with his coarse bristles.

“My leg don’t bend that way,” she said, laughing as he tried to bring her bare foot round toward his waiting lips.

“Hey hun?” Marian held the sides of his head and looked down at the bridge of his nose. Kel looked up.

“Yes, honey?”

“Can we visit our neighbours sometime soon?”

“All of them?”

“No, the one with the photographs.”

“Sure,” said Kel. “We’ll do that right after the folks go. You like photographs?”

“Yeah, I bought a camera today, just a second-hand one for the visit, to take pictures of us all together.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Kel, dropping his head back down to the television. “Sounds nice.” Marian played with his thinning hair, watched the erection beneath his fly throb and diminish like the sad and repeating notes in a coda.

Thanks for checking out this little part of my short story.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can read it here for free, or get it for your e-reader on iBooks, Amazon or Kobo. Or you can just say you read the book, and donate five bucks down below. Go on.

Gabriel Muoio


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