We met over a bunch of seedless grapes.
He was balding and I was suffering from early onset vascular degeneration. He wore elasticated pants.
At first there was no sexual attraction. Even as our skins touched there was no electrical current to remind us we had groins and blood and flesh. There was, instead, the sound of a mop being dunked in warm soapy water; it was nighttime and the supermarket was due to close.
We walked to the checkout together. The cashier asked me if I had an Everyday Rewards Card and I said No sorry I don’t, and he said Do you mind if I get your points on mine? I asked How many points will a bunch of seedless grapes get you?
I don’t know, he said, more than a slap in the face.
I laughed because it was the funniest thing I’d heard all day. He laughed because he hadn’t made anyone laugh all week. We simultaneously imagined each other naked and sweating and saying things like sorry, it’s been a while or I’m a little out of practice. And we imagined high-fiving when we got the pieces to fit right, and I’d call him my Ten-Thrust Lover, and he’d say right, come ’ere, I’ll show you some long-lasting lovin’, and then I’d run squealing down the hall. He imagined me saying things like I love your cosmic energy and your aura is so green. Muscles contracting and relaxing. Ten bursts, a hundred little deaths.
He was forty and lived with his family; I was thirty-two and lived with mine.
The cashier chewed gum and sighed. Can he get your Everyday Rewards points or what?