When Ella walked in, the part of her that wanted to be happy ignored the smell of sex in the air and called all the other parts of herself paranoid. She kissed me and we were instantly happy and would be until she left. She had no power over me if she wasn’t in touching distance. I didn’t think about her unless she was there or if I was horny. She always made me want to make her happy. I’d do or be anyone for her, as long as she was around. Once she left though, I was just me again. She didn’t have presence. She didn’t leave anything lingering. Some guys wouldn’t even take a second look at her. She was beautiful but not in the new way.

She was five nothing and weighed a buck ten on a bad day. She was Italian with a long neck. When she was naked she looked like she belonged in centuries old painting and when dressed like she belonged in the ’60s.

We would talk to each other in lyrics. It was a game for us.

“I don’t want to be your other half, I believe one and one makes two”

“Easy, Alanis.”

“Yep.”

“Just you and me. Now won’t you tell me true. Ain’t that the way it oughta be?”

“Dylan”

“Right-o”

“And for you I keep my legs apart and forget about my tainted heart.”

“Lykke Li”

“Good guess, what song?”

“Little Bit. My tongue’s the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.”

“Bayside?”

“No, Brand New you lose”

“I think I’m going to win anyway”

I picked her up and took her to the bedroom.