He carried her upstairs. Long strands of blonde hair covered her face. Blue eyes closed. Snoring. In his arms, her limp body lay still. Like a rug folded in the middle. Every once in a while, she’d smack her lips with her pierced tongue.

She had a tattoo of the maiden voyage on her right arm. Outlined in black with red ink. Wore short sleeves to show it off; even in winter. He laid her on the sofa in the front room with coffee stains and spilled gravy on it. Without opening her eyes, she smiled at him.

The television was on with the sound down low. Spencer Tracey and Kathryn Hepburn kissing on a black and white screen. The young man opened a beer and sat beside her on the couch. He placed her head in his lap. Started flipping around channels. Entertainment Tonight was on. Celebrities interviewed on the red carpet as they strolled into the theater.

We’re going to be stars like that one of these days, he wispered to her as she slept. People are going to know us, he said. They’re going to recognize us when we go out for dinner or get a latte at Starbucks, he laughed. Then we’ll take all our money and move to Paris. Start speaking in French. You’d like that ,wouldn’t you? she smiled, coming out of her coma.

There ain’t no such thing as Paris, she said. There’s a Paris, Texas. There’s a Paris, Tennessee. But, there ain’t no Paris, France, she said. Not for people like us. Never for people like us. Do we have any ice cream? Chocolate?

We got frozen yogurt.

See. You’re already getting weird. Paris, France? Frozen yogurt? I don’t know, Billy. Things sure are strange.

Go back to sleep, he said. And dream. Just dream.

That’s all we do is dream, Billy. That’s all we do.