Won’t say it’s too hot today. Nah. It’s just fine. Not a cloud in the sky. The pavement steams like some cobra dance, just wriggling’ like God knows what. I reckon a lesser man might complain, you know, ‘bout the weather. ‘Bout this heat. Not me. It’s fine. Everythin’s fine.

I met her in a bar not too far off. Was some years ago. Must have been, well, four if you can imagine that. Four years. I must have looked something like a bear when I walked in that day. Torn jeans, scuffed hide jacket. My hair was a good three inches longer then, ‘n must’ve been caked with sand like the rest of me. She was one for the rough types, yeah, she sure was that girl. And the moment she saw me, I’m sure she yanked her collar down just a little lower and put more of a bounce in her step. I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t the prey of this here lady. Don’t like to think of myself being some weak victim, but I was. I was hers. I was her catch, not the other way around, though, for awhile, I liked to think that way. I should have known, that somewhere in this great sand pit I’d meet someone who’d best me. I just didn’t expect them to be wearing blue eyeliner, ‘s all.

Her name was Sally. It was scrawled over her little nametag that sat like a cockroach on her shoulder. Sally. If it belonged to any other girl it would be as plain as a weed, but with her, it had magic. It had somethin’ of a cool breeze in it. It slipped off the tongue and twirled round your head a few times before floating off into the horizon. Sally. She leaned on the table, pen behind her ear, paper pad in hand.

“What can I getcha?” she had asked with a slow blink. She was a hawk and I was getting dive-bombed. I sat there, the hare I was, looking into the sky, thinkin’, hit me.

We got an apartment together, no more then five months later. Can you imagine that? We had three goldfish, a television, and rickety stove that only worked half the time. Three fans rattled in our 3 windows in our three rooms. One of which was a little bathroom. Don’t know if that really counts. She’d work all day, I’d work all day, then we’d come home and flop in the bed, remote in hand. She’d hug me and tell me I was her favorite then give me a tap on the nose. I could only stand her doing that, and only when we’re alone. I wasn’t afraid to be weak around her. I loved her so much.

I proposed to her, several times, but she always said not yet, not yet. And it hurt, even a bear like me. Ya see, I’m a God fearing man, and this lust, it reminded me of dried up beetle carcasses and rusty nails. Marriage would send it right. That I knew, but I loved her so much ya see, I held onto the sickness that was the both of us. I believed with my heart of hearts that there was more to this love than lust, and Sally was mine, mine in body and in soul.

But I was wrong. As much as I meant to Sally, I meant nothin’ to her. I was her favorite all right. Her favorite toy. While I imagined love and children, she slept around. While I was out, buying her a ring, she was at the bar, lowering her collar for some other dusty fellow. What an idiot I was.

She was coming home less and less. Friends, she said. And I believed her. At first. I loved her enough to believe all her lies, but one always starts to get paranoid. It’s just what happens. You feel guilty for suspectin’ your loved one of anythin’, but after a while the thought just eats into your brain. So I start askin’ questions. Shufflin’ my boots through the desert sand, I walk into the bar during her day off, tight lipped and sweating like some sissy. I needed information. Anything. Where was Sally tonight? No one really hesitated to tell me. Hell, some of the wenches working there didn’t even know Sally had a roommate. But they were all quite sure she and a fellow were drivin’ off together after work for the last few nights. Where do they go? No one knows. But I will. I’ll follow them.

I waited all evening in my parked car, air-conditionin’ blastin’. I watched the bar, I waited for her, and as I sat I began to understand. She’d never marry me. Hell, I probably wasn’t even her favorite anymore. For the first time in my life, I viewed myself as weak, and pathetic. She had made a little boy out of me, and like Hell would she get away unpunished. Like Hell.

His apartment was much smaller than ours. He had no goldfish.

Everythin’s fine. I flick my cigarette off the side of the cliff and watch it swirl down until it’s too small to see. In front of me, large, angular red rocks grow out of the ground like great dry mushrooms. The dry desert air is all around, carrying its stinging little sand blades. But that’s ok. Doesn’t bother me. I reach into my jacket and pull out my gun. Turning it around, giving it one last look, I toss it after my cigarette and listen to it clamor down. Everythin’s fine. Everythin’s fine.