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She unbuttoned my shirt.
She was drunk.
We’d been drinking red wine for hours.
She put on just about every dress she owned for me to swoon to.
Clumsily, with one hand, she moved down to the last button.
“Brrrup- I’m sorry, how rude of me.” My belly said. She laughed. We were on the couch in the dining room in her parents’ house. They were out on the boat. She was moving to New York City in the morning. I was terrified. I thought… maybe it’s your fault, belly. Maybe it’s your fault she's leaving us. Why must you be so huge some days?
“Fuck you, I’m here to stay.” He said. “And I get gassy sometimes. I like pizza.”
Yes belly, but I like carrots and hummus! Black beans and rice!
“I like beer.” Said my belly.
It was just about that moment when she began fussing with my undershirt. She slipped her hand up my shirt and started caressing the soft hairs of my belly.
“She’s touching us! She’s touching us!” Belly proclaimed from mountain top.
Sleep was soon upon us. Belly and I haven't spoke since. He's upset that I'm taken up Pilates.
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