His speckled eyes met mine and for the first time in a while I felt the drunkenness take me out. I fell into his arms and didn’t wake up til the next morning. There was a film of sweat and drool between the two of us. Beer bottles and whiskey nips. No sex though. I thought there would be fucking and maybe some fellatio. Dry lips and dreams placed on hold for just one more night. But somehow our hands remained clasped the whole night. I mean, lately we’ve been sleeping back to back spewing over the shoulder I-love-yous. I don’t know how long it’s been but it all seemed normal. Midway. Conventional. So basically, beautifully boring. Always beauty always beauty. But the winds have changed because I found the knife he gave me. I begged for it and traded some sexual favors he would have gotten anyway. But I got it that day, and now I’ve found it again. So I make drunken threats with it all night while cutting out chunks of grapefruit. Chunks of those pink gems were flying everywhere. I think one may have landed in his hair and all night I’d stare at it while he told me stories. I wanted to say something but the words never made it to my mouth. That happens a lot. Anyways, this morning I was so disappointed about how much grapefruit I wasted eating it that way.