I lay in an exhausted daze, letting my heartbeat recalibrate, while my satisfied stare somehow picks up a game of “You blinked” with the half finished naked lady tattooed on his calf. The fact that this game always ends in an impasse suddenly makes me laugh.

He springs to his feet, like a young boy suddenly remembering where he cleverly hid last months’ allowance, an innocent wide grin on his still-flushed face. I watch him flounder, and then he finds the mini waffle maker and begins to cook us some highly underrated, heavenly sustenance.
We dine solely on this swollen Eucharist and...