fyoo-cha

she has a phd in history. wars and genocide. empire building. exploration and exploitation of previously inhabited land. he likes the future, outer space, and holding her hand.

"there's nothing beyond today" she says.

"i disagree," he counters. "for today we are born."

"and why do you always wear shorts?" she says. "you're 38 years old."

"tomorrow i will wear some slacks, for you, fancy ones with pin stripes and a closely fitted shirt. i will tussle my hair and sling a messenger bag across my shoulder. it will rest on my hip and draw attention down to my shoes. they will be made in denmark and there will be something unique about them. we will drink cappuccinos and sit at the tables outside. i will type something on my laptop and your friends will whisper and you will be proud. i will kiss your neck and whisper into your ear. i will tell you about paris and how we are going to go there in the summertime. i have bought the tickets and we'll leave the kids at your mother's. i won't talk about robots. not even once. you will tell me about something you read in the paper and i will tell you about the time i was in germany. a new story, one that you have never heard before. a deeply personal story that i never intended to share. it was when the wall was coming down and you will be captivated. hours later we will realize that we never left the coffee shop. we both missed work and we just keep on talking. i will seduce you and we will make out on the train and back in the apartment we will make love in the middle of the afternoon. this is all going to happen tomorrow."

"can't you at least wear some jeans once in a while?" she says. "it's embarrassing."