I’m always surprised that the milk bar’s open this late. The white fluorescent light spills out onto the pavement, blurring the lines of the grass blades clinging to the dirt in the cracks. The door’s wide open, and as I go in, the buzzer blares and Mr. Nguyen looks up from his paper.
“Winfield Blues, yes?”
“Yeah, thanks. And a coke.”
I pull the bottle from the fridge, slightly warm. I can already taste the soft fizz of warm coke from a plastic bottle. Every coke container creates a different texture. Plastic bottled coke has the smallest bubbles, almost like electrical static.
I pull my socks up and my skirt down.
I don’t actually know if he’s Mr. Nguyen, but the store’s called ‘Nguyen Convenience’ and he’s always there.
Oooh, I could just break your ears off while kissing you, I could! I could just EAT your FACE, y’know? Just, like, EAT it. Right off your skull and then lick your eye sockets clean! Just chew your lips right out of your smile and pull off your nose and munch on it because I LOVE you. You know how I love your belly button? Your little itsy bitsy belly welly button? Man, I could just get an incisor in there and just rip the whole thing open, right now! Press my face into your guts and blow a raspberry into your colon! God, I love you so much I could puke. On you. In you. I could puke you out of me and then eat you again.
I’m sorry. I’m drunk and high and I’ve got a serious case of the munchies and really, it’d be best if you just left me alone to think about what I’ve done.