A metal echo from the street, fading dreams about that winter storm on the beach. Sun spearing orange through wooden blinds rattling from the window breeze. A talking head murmurs loudly from the unit next door.

I rub my eyes and smell her perfume on my hands, camp smoke mingled with spicy soapy flowers. She is bright and beautiful and finds me funny and attractive enough.

With my my face hard against her back I mumble something morning-after appropriate, sexy and witty. Her skin is a cool, dry place where my heart beats slow. Flips to face me with smiling saucer eyes, sharp laughter like a snapping harp chord and pulls me to her and I am certain I am with someone I could definitely make my wife. At least for this summer, in this city, for sure.