He takes one out of the package, asks “how do these work?” as he unpeels it. What do you mean, how do they work, you know how they work. “Well yeah but these aren’t like the hospital issue wound pads”, which are exactly like the little pad stuck to the underside of every chuck roast or steak, only bigger, your dinner for all intents and purposes a wound separated from the wounded and a pad stuck to it that needs no adhesive aside from the blood itself, sticky inherently. “What are these things?”, he asks as he finishes unwrapping the side tabs and sticks the whole thing to his forehead. Those are wings, ya know, like from the commercial, you wrap them around. “Ahhh”, he says, as he opens a bottle of wine and pours me a glass with a panty-liner stuck to his forehead, the wings flapping.

Later, whenever that is and however it turns out to be noted as such, such moments as these will be my memories of us.

Remember this?