Leftovers.

Marie was wearing two different socks. I hadn't noticed until then. It was late and the kitchen was dark except for the light from the fridge glowing around her as she stood nude considering the Chinese leftovers.

“What do you think?” she asked.

I was in the doorway. I wasn't particularly hungry. She leaned gently toward the fridge with her feet crossed.

“Should I pan fry it?”

“The Chinese?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I suppose,” I walked up behind her and put my hands on her hips and pulled her back to me. She pushed gently. “It'd probably be better than the microwave.”

She leaned back against me and stood and I ran my hand up her side and cupped her breast as she looked up and under now tired eyes, kissed me slow.

“You should make it for me,” she said.

“Okay. You have to stay in here and keep me company though.”

“Okay.” She leaned against the counter and I took the Chinese out and set it on the counter. I turned on the burner and found a pan and dropped only a little butter in it and then dumped the Chinese into it. It sizzled and popped occasionally.

“Eight years,” she said.

“Yep.”

“You ever get tired of me?”

“Sure. All the time, but what can I do?”

“Oh? Well, fine then. Don't think I don't get tired of you too, mister.”

“Is that right?” I turned to her wrapped my arms around her waist and she pulled me close behind my neck and kissed me again.

“Yes,” she said pulling away, “that's right. I'm just right full up of your shit.” She smiled at the corner of her mouth.

“And what shit would that be?” The smell of Chinese filled the kitchen and now I was hungry.

“What shit? What shit, you ask?” she said.

“Yep. You're so sick of it,” I kissed her again and ran my hand down her back with my fingers spread and digging gently into her. “What is it all then?”

Her brown eyes had a smoking excitement behind them and under tired lids.

“I hate your...” She touched a finger to my chest. “Face, and your...” She walked her fingers to my stomach. “personality, and...” She continued to the top of my thigh. “Your whole brain.” She ran her fingers gently up and down my thigh and I began to stroke with one finger the backs of hers.

“I,” I said, “hate your shitty attitude.” I kissed her neck.

“Oh yeah?”

“I hate your taste in books.” I kissed the top of her chest. “I hate the way you wear your socks mismatched.” I kissed her breast.

The Chinese was popping.

I pulled away and took a spatula from the drawer and flipped the food around some. Then I went back to Marie.

“Why are you still with me then if you hate me so much?” she asked.

“You have your qualities.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Oh. You need me to stroke your ego now?”

She dug her nails into my lower back.

“You know exactly what,” I said.

The Chinese burned.

Skin.

We pull into an old gravel pit. It is day and it is also night. Not evening, but both coexisting. Shifting constantly, seamlessly and unnoticed. There are two buildings. A house. It looks turn of the century. Also, in the back and down a small drive is a crumbling wooden shed. There are cars parked near it. Dust covered and some have windows opened but I don't think anyone has noticed in a long time.

We park our new red car in front of the house and get out. It is old, the house. The paint is peeling and I say: "It's been rented too many times," and this Marie agrees. She knocks.

"Come in," someone says inside and we go in. There is nowhere to go except up a poorly painted staircase. The lighting is bad. An old used towel sits crumpled on a step and garbage lightly litters other steps. The house is empty except for a few mattress', an old console television on the floor in one room and six girls in front of it. Their hair is dyed pink and they have tattoos and they glow and have death in their eyes and I like it.

"Okay, I am going outside now for a smoke," this Marie says.

"I'll go with you," one of the girls says and gets up to go outside for a smoke also.

"Pick some out," this Marie says.

"Okay," I say.

A petite girl with short blonde hair and blue eyes and a tight, short black sundress walks over to me. She smiles and puts my hand on her breast. It is soft and I can feel the dress over it and I can feel her nipple stiffen under the fabric. "First, me," she says.

She takes me to another room down the hallway and the paint is peeling very badly. We lie on another mattress and it has no sheets and it is on the floor without a frame. I am always more comfortable without frames. She uses my hand to run over her skin and she unbuckles my pants and goes down for a few minutes. When she finishes and I don't she says "my turn." She takes her dress off and she is wearing nothing underneath. She lays on her back and I run my hand up her leg and I see she has a growth of skin dangling near the top of her thigh. First small, then longer.

Steady, I think.

She moans as I move my hand further up her thigh and the growth is now a patch and it covers her thighs and it looks like hardened and melted skin. Like icicles of skin.

I am repulsed and I pull back.

"What's wrong?" she asks. "Don't you want me?"

I don't want to hurt her feelings."Yes, of course. I'm just... going slow."

She flips over onto her knees and shows me her ass and her pussy and the skin is worse. The skin hangs and she is covered in the hard long drips and streams and masses of skin and I think she must have been in a horrible acid attack at some point and I don't understand how I didn't notice before and I can only think of how rude it will be if I don't fuck her now.