Red Fluff Ball, That Fell Off the Curb of the Fire Truck Parking Onto the Parking Lot, and Looked Like a Funny Face.
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 “I love when you fill me with your cum, ‘cuz I’m a filthy whore,” Triangle said in a slutty Marilyn Monroe voice, as Circle pulled his dick out of her, and it flopped like a wet fish against her thigh. To read this story, you must not be concerned with the anatomy of the characters – they are shapes, not people. Triangle squeezed her tits with both hands, and licked her lips, and squeezed her thighs around Circle’s waist, letting the semen gloop out of her, placidly content with pleasurable everything. Circle tried not to stare at anything, catching his breath and feeling his balls relax back down into their sack. The room smelled like weed smoke and fucking. “I love you,” she whispered. He said I love you, too, and they lay there for a while, and then Circle moved her over and sat up and loaded another bowl from the desk by the bed, and offered it to her and she took some, then he did, then they relaxed there perfectly content. Triangle asked him if he wanted to do anything during the day, but he couldn’t think of anything specific.
 “You wanna go see that Willem Dafoe movie later?” he asked.
 “Not really… we can go if you want.”
 “Nah, let’s wait ‘til it’s on rental.”
 They were both satisfied with that decision. In the corner of the room a stand-up oscillating fan moved the air around and a little line of sunlight ran up the wall opposite the bed from their grayish white curtained window. Outside it was nice and warm and they could hear a family of birds chirping faintly somewhere, and Triangle felt lightheaded and queasy suddenly, and got up to check the mirror and use the bathroom, and Circle thought maybe he did kind of want to go see that movie, maybe he would drag her to it after all. After some time had passed they ate left over fajitas from the night before, and Triangle rubbed her neck and wondered about a little bump she found there.
 “I think it’s just a mole,” Circle said when she asked. “I think you’ve always had that.”
 “You never noticed it before?”
 “No, I’ve seen that. It’s like a little mole. It’s hard to notice. I think it looks cute.”
 “You think my little mole looks cute? You’re weird.”
 “No it looks fine. You’re beautiful, you really are.”
 She smiled and kept rubbing the spot, and they finished eating fajitas and threw away the Styrofoam containers. Circle drank a Dr. Pepper and Triangle had some iced-tea.
 “Are you still stoned?”
 “Yeah, yeah that’s good weed.”
 “You got it from Rhombus?”
 “No, he was dry. He knew a guy named Hexagon who hooked us up.”
 “Lol. Hexagon. Sounds like a drug-dealer. Does he… I mean is he a real one?”
 “Yeah, it looked like he maintains it. The dude’s jacked.”
 “Well, I like you. I like how round you are…” she said, winking.
 “I like your corners, beautiful.”
 They embraced and kissed. It was a pleasant afternoon.
 Later, Circle took the trash out, Triangle put a new bag in the trashcan, and they went out past the apartment dumpster, tossing the old bag away, and got in Triangle’s red Ford Focus to drive to the movie theater. Circle sparked a joint and they passed it back and forth on the drive. Circle took more – Triangle always got paranoid being high around other shapes. In the parking lot, Triangle checked her make-up in the rearview mirror and Circle made sure he had his keys and wallet, and they both switched off their phones. “You ready?” she said. “Yeah.” They headed for the ticket booth.
 The young Square who sold them their tickets looked bored to tears – she clearly wasn’t enjoying her job. Inside, the theater lobby was very crowded. Triangle stood with her hand against Circle’s back in line to get snacks. She made eye contact with an older couple of Triangles who wore sour expressions as they studied her. There were lots of kids running around, unsupervised by their Dodecahedron parents who were near the front of the line. Triangle stood closer to Circle and marveled at the intricate patterns of the carpet. Circle held her close and smiled at her – you’re okay, I’m here, no need to worry. After a long time they finally bought their popcorn and sodas and headed for their theater.
 “Um… before we go in… honestly, I kinda need to…”
 Triangle frowned. “You’re gonna do that thing.”
 “No, no, I promise. I need to… actually, go, you know. Really.”
 “Okay.” “Are you okay?” “It’s fine.”
 Circle left her there outside the bathroom, pulling out her phone and studying it even though he knew it was turned off. He guiltily went inside and stood by the urinals, taking them in, needing to pee but hesitating. Then he turned around and took a stall, closed the door and sat down. He urinated, trying to be quiet, trying not to listen to the trickling liquid sound. I’m going to finish and stand up and wash my hands and go back to her, he thought. I’m not going to do it. The weed was pretty strong, and he became lost in thought pondering a diaper changing station on the wall, when he heard the door open and someone came in and began peeing in the urinal. No, no, Circle thought, but the sound of the stranger’s piss splashing the porcelain was impossible not to notice – it was loud and forceful, result of a large soda no doubt, maybe Mr. Pibb. It resonated and echoed in the small, tiled space like a mighty waterfall cascading down into craggy river boulders. Circle couldn’t help but be fascinated. He sat there and listened and took in the incredible sound of pissing, remembering it for his collection. What day is it, he couldn’t think. Damnit, his phone was off. He had to check the date somehow, had to preserve this tremendous piss music. He couldn’t possibly ask Triangle. The last fight over him doing this was awful. He had to lie to her and then catalogue it later. He had to try and focus on the movie.
 “Your popcorn and soda is on that bench,” she said as he walked out, smiling at her, picking up the snacks and rejoining her. Let’s go, he said, and she walked in front of him, not looking back, handing both their tickets to the Oval ticket-taker, putting the stubs in her pocket. He followed behind, desperately replaying the peeing sound in his mind, wondering about the date and trying not to care.
 “I just used it, I didn’t do the other thing.”
 “I know, it’s fine, let’s go watch your movie.”
 The theater was crowded but they found two good seats near the front. Willem Dafoe was incredible, really capturing the emotional weight the character dealt with, and everyone else in the cast supported him tremendously. Circle and Triangle were stoned and the movie began to drag near the middle; a lot of the allegorical symbolism was lost on them but they were very impressed by the cinematography and sound track. Triangle put her hand on his knee and looked at him at one point, trying to make eye contact, and hoping he would kiss her, but he ignored it and ate his popcorn and focused on the film. They left during the credits, walked past the bathroom without comment, and went back out to the car. Circle drove, and Triangle asked if they could stop at Walgreens for a second.
 “I need some Tylenol or something. My headache is bad.”
 They pulled into the Walgreens parking lot and Circle waited in the car while Triangle went in to the store. She found the painkillers and stood there in the aisle hidden from the entrance and pulled out her phone and checked it – three missed calls and one voicemail from her dad.
 “Angela, sweetie, it’s your father. Just wanted to check up on you, make sure everything is okay. You probably saw I called a few times, but I guess you’re with…” There was a pause, and Triangle closed her eyes and waited for what she knew was coming. “…with uh, that Circle or, out with friends or somewhere. Anyway call me when you get this. I love you, sweetie.”
 Yes, Dad, she thought, I’m with ‘That Circle’. I’m GOING TO BE with That Circle. She deleted the message and put her phone away, grabbed some Aleve 12-hour relief capsules and went to the checkout.
 Circle had rolled another joint back out in the car, and they shared it and decided to pick up some Wendy’s, then drove back to the apartment.
 “Your head feelin’ any better?” he asked later after they ate.
 “Umm… not really. I’m gonna take a bath, do you mind?”
 “No go ahead. I hope you feel okay. I’m gonna look up that sound track. I think it was all original.”
 “That one song was Jonny Greenwood.”
 “Yeah? Oh, cool.”
 Triangle went to the bathroom and drew a hot bath. She took off her clothes and settled into the relaxing warmth of the water. Circle waited until he heard her splashing, then quickly turned on the computer and checked the date. Okay, the twenty-fourth, Regal 16 public men’s room, fantastic Mr. Pibb piss symphony. He noted the details down in his mental collection, then satisfied, found the Greenwood track on YouTube and browsed a cinephile message board. Triangle pleasured herself in the tub and her headache went away, then after drying off, stood naked before the mirror, frowning over the pudginess at her waist and the unshaven dishevelment of her pubic hair, trying to look at the mirror in the reflection of her make-up compact, and worrying about a faint redness blemishing the spot on her neck.
 Back out in the living room, Circle was seated at the computer with his headphones on. Triangle saw by the album art on the screen he was listening to The Bangles, and noticed he silently mouthed the chorus – “…and the sky, is a hazy shade of Winter. Time, time, time, what has become of me?” She watched him silently from the couch.
 I don’t have any problems right now, she thought. I’m going to ignore this thing on my neck. I love him, he likes to listen to men pissing but I love him. It’s all that matters. That night they made love again. Circle held her legs up over her head and fucked her deeply. She moaned and came and tightened her warm sex around his cock. He grunted like a werewolf and shot off inside her.
THE END.