She looked at the hair in his arm pit and wanted to make love to him.

Magdalena was the first to go. She still had colour in her hair and he never saw her get wrinkles. He thought of her a lot now his life was reduced to four empty walls and some pictures on the night stand.

She was looking for her dead father’s belongings, small things that said something about the person who owned them, little hints that he had been there. A raisor, some cologne. But there was nothing left in the house to remind her of him. It was like he had never been there at all.

I listened to my sister singing in the shower while she washed the semen from between her legs. Her voice reminded me of our mother.

I see people here, relieved by the death of a parent. Not because their parent was ill but simply lived beyond their years. Perhaps we should all start drinking and smoking like sons of bitches so that we can die in our fourties in order not to inconvenience the children.

Sometimes my feet are so heavy that it feels like I should leave them behind in order to get to work in time. I keep telling myself that I am living a life which doesn’t belong to me, to discover in the end, that it is the only life I lived.

“You watch too many movies,” he said, playing with the almost empty cup in his hands. “I mean really, what would happen if the movie continued after the guy gets the girl in the end?” He paused, taking a moment to finish his coffee. “They would grow tired of each other is what happens, they would grow tired, they would get a divorce, split their possessions in half, fight over the children and end up in a retirement home with nothing to look back on but the train wreck that is their life.” He looked at her and than out of the window. It was raining. “They would wonder where they went wrong, they would wonder how they ended up with each other, how they ended up with a bunch of children who never visit them, how they died long before their heart stopped beating.” He moved a coaster up and down his fingers and wondered when they had turned into the kind of people who own things like coasters. He cleared his throat, indicating that the shit storm wasn’t over. “Because that is what happens you know, life isn’t a love song or a poem, people don’t belong to one specific other, dreams don’t come true, there is no such thing as destiny. Life is just one god damn unromantic fuck up after another.”