We're alone in the dark room. He's sitting across from me; there's the glow of incense and a cardboard box on the floor between us. In the dark, I can't even make out his face.
"Highly intelligent people are some of the most fucked up people you'll ever meet," I say.
"What's that line, the one about genius and..." He trails off and takes a drag from his cigarette.
"The fine line between genius and insanity."
He chuckles softly, "That's the one."
"Honestly, I'm jealous of the people who can turn off the thinking parts of their brain and just live for food and sex."
"So it's not just me then," he murmurs.
We put in another movie we both know we're not going to watch. We talk through the beginning of the movie, but within minutes we're pawing at each other.
An hour later in his bed I tell him that I don't usually react to people in this way. We're both still fully clothed, but entirely too warm for it.
"But when you do, it's nice," he says. "Sometimes you just meet someone, and you know...it's nice."
No comments:
Post a Comment