sequential art

There isn’t a lot to do out here. Sometimes we sit on opposite sides of the couch watching TV. Sometimes we sit close. I like to put my head on your shoulder. But watching television gets stale, so sometimes we face each other, our knees touching, and we tell each other stories to pass the time. “Okay,” I said to you. “Do you remember that one time—?” “No,” you told me, “I literally do not.” Well, that was okay. “Oh, good,” I said. “You’ll like this story.” I tented my fingers and tried to decide where to begin. “It all started when—no, wait, maybe I should tell you about her mom first.” I tapped my chin with my finger. “Hm, or, no, maybe it started with her grandmother.” I started to tell you about her grandmother, but you already looked exhausted. I had to agree my retelling was dreadful: a Biblical list of names, and no faces to go along with them. “Okay!” I said. “Put your shoes on. It’s easier if I just show you anyway.” “Good,” you said, “I’ve missed eating.” “It’s a date!” I…