I go to movies, seat beside me smelling of emptiness and armpits.
I try to yell quotes at the screen, but it’s pointless. No exchanging nicknames and secrets about favorite sex positions. Secret fondness for royalty and fairy tales.
Now you speak words like “pragmatic” and “delineating” instead of cheerful interjections of “fuck.”
You grew up. You were thirty-five.
Time is a cold hitman.
You loved throwing Junior Mints at the screen, said they had great velocity. Now it’s puerile.
I try to throw. Junior Mints land inches away, a soft plop.
Staring at the wide gulf between seats, I leave.
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. His story “Soon” was nominated for a Pushcart. Yash’s stories are forthcoming or have been published in Café Lit, Mad Swirl, 50 Word Stories, and Ariel Chart, among others.