by Michael Pollock
1.
“Is something wrong?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure,” he said. “Does something seem wrong?”
“You didn’t laugh,” she said. “You usually laugh at my hand job jokes.”
2.
I walked through a fume-filed accordion-like tunnel that connected the plane to the terminal, which was empty and half lit. I looked for signs that might point me to ground transportation, not convinced that the sparse number of other passengers knew where they were going. A siren and flashing lights came from a row of slot machines on my left. They were weak, like from a child’s toy police car, but they were the only splotches of life I could recognize.
“Hell yes,” a woman yelled out over the siren and a clang of falling coins. “Fuck you faggot, I’m going to Reno.”
“We’re in Reno,” a man’s voice said. “And for the last time, I’m not gay."
3.
He wanted to go to the Amazon. She, for a reason beyond him, wanted to go to the Arctic Circle. What did she want to go there for? The Amazon was where they should go. Her roots, she said. She wanted to rediscover her roots.
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