What is it that you want? she asked. Out of this. This thing we’re doing, she lit a cigarette, rubbed her green eyes, ran fingers through her gray hair. I mean, you come over here drunk after closing bars, and we make love, then you go home. I don’t even know if we’re making love to be honest with you, he looked up at her. Just some kind of crazy thing we do, she laughed. And, I allow it. Every weekend, I let it happen. I don’t know. Maybe we’re both living out our older days the way we did our young ones. Just messing around. No commitment. Right? she crushed out her cigarette, walked over to the kitchen counter where he was leaning. She placed her hand on his lined face. He pulled it away. Held it. Smiled at her.

You got any coffee?

You know where it’s at, he nodded. Second shelf. It’s on the second shelf, she told him. Get back. I’ll get it.

You gotta be more specific.

Specific?

Yeah.

Are we talking about coffee here?

Yeah. Point it out to me, she reached over and grabbed the Maxwell House. You could’ve just shown me.

Coffee, huh? Could’ve fooled me.

What else could I be talking about? You think this is symbolic? A can of coffee? Words we’re exchanging. Sometimes, a banana is just a banana. There’s no hidden meaning.

It’s a cigar.

What?

Oral fixation. A cigar. That crazy Austrian said cigar. Not banana.

Right. That crazy Austrian.

Yes, they both laughed. He held onto her, and she wrapped her hands around his neck. They began dancing a slow dance. No music. Just silently waltzing across the kitchen floor until morning.

Goodnight, old friend.

Goodnight.