“Why is it that some days all I want is anal sex on a roof, and the next I just want to hold you and cry in your hair?”

“It’s probably something stupid, like the fact that you’re human.”

“That does seem like a ridiculous reason,” I said. We were lying on the grass in the Brooklyn Botanical Garden, and it was quiet and empty. Her dress had ridden up, and the white cotton she wore beneath it was stained with grass.

“I’m just glad that some days you want to fuck me in a park. On the lawn. With my clothes still on.”

“Well I’m just glad that you love me and kiss my nose when I’m sleeping. And don’t mind when I come in less than three minutes when we fuck in the park.”

She lay back and took my hand, holding it against her stomach. Her dress was soft, and I ignored the twig in her hair just as she did the leaf in my beard. My hand gently rose and fell on the swell of her breath, as all around us the lightning bugs slowly began to blink on as if just for us.

“Maybe later you can choke me and then we can take a bath,” she said, leaning in for a gentle kiss.

“I’d like that,” I said, sliding my hand up her body to her throat. I squeezed her playfully, just for a moment, and just hard enough for her to gasp and smile. “And then we’ll sleep and pretend the world is fine.”

“And then we’ll sleep,” she whispered, our hands once more intertwined as we lay back on the grass. “But first, let’s count the lights.”

“One, two, three…” we began together.