Ghosts

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A husband and wife invite an old friend to their home. They eat a nice dinner by candlelight. There is no electricity. There hasn't been in a while. Their faces are soft in shadow.

"So how are you? How is--"

"But it is great to see you, it really is."

"I'm sorry about before."

"No, it's fine."

They talk long into the night.

They sip slowly from their wineglasses. And walk to the verandah. Under a sky where they cannot see any stars, they light up and breathe in bittersweet smoke.

He stands and paces. She and her man sit on the bench.

She smiles. "I am sorry too. I know you loved me."

It comes upon him, an intense wave of desire, the burning regret of a younger man. He is embarrassed, terribly so. To still be affected after all these years. And with the man she married right there, watching.

They were never close, the two men, though they have known each other for decades. Since they were boys, and she, a girl.

"It's alright. It's alright." She spreads her legs, just a little bit. There is promise in the shadow under her skirt, between her parted knees. Her heel taps the bench slowly, slowly.

The husband rubs the wife's shoulders. The wife's foot presses lightly against their friend's shoulders when he sits at the foot of the bench. The touch makes him shiver. He is wild and dizzy and loose, and wonders if he needs more wine, or if he has already had too much.

They watch the mushroom clouds rising, the fires on the horizon.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kD7TZ...