She put on a robe and looked at the man on her bed. The room stunk like stagnant sex and cigarette smoke. She hoped he'd wake up embarrassed and just leave the house while she was showering.

The smell of steamy water brought him to his senses. He picked up his boxers and walked into the kitchen looking for coffee. Unsure if he should make a pot, if he should even stick around, he walked outside and peed. An old dog came up to him and growled.

She scrubbed herself raw surrounded by steaming water, willing the man to be gone when she got out of the shower.

Unsure if he'd appear rude by leaving without saying anything, he sat on a rusty chair trying to pet the growling dog. It always made him uncomfortable when the woman woke first and just slipped out of bed without a word. So hard to figure out what that means. Had they made plans for the morning? He could barely hear her talking over the band. He just smiled, nodded his head, was glad she was pretty, and enjoyed imagining she was saying things she probably wasn't. In his book, this was a perfect beginning.

Bed was empty. She put on a pair of dirty shorts and a clean tee-shirt, then stepped into the kitchen. That bastard didn't even leave a note.

He heard the coffee grinder and walked into the house, dog nipping at his bare feet.

Pouring water, she wondered if she should ask his name or if they had sex last night. Instead she said, Would you like a bagel?

He wondered if he should give her a hug or offer to help with something; but, what does it require to put a bagel in the toaster? Last night everything was so easy.

They took their bagels and coffee outside and sat on rusty chairs. Last night is a blur, she admitted. Did anything happen?

Was this some kind of test? An insult. Unsure what to say, he said, Weird. I thought it was just me. It's like the night never happened but here we are sitting outside eating bagels and drinking coffee.