In Bed

In bed, Chris sees me writing my five lines, says, can I help? I like helping you. Says, write about Wyoming. Yes, I say, I'll do that. Eight seconds later, she has more ideas. Say this and this, she says. I say, you go write your country song, and I'll write my blog. She laughs because she knows it's funny, then says, I'm not talking to you; I don't even like you. But I know she's lying.