Marsha was out cold when John heard Tony pull into the driveway. She was chewing on her hair, snoring softly.
John looked into the bathroom mirror. "What a mess." He frothed his face up with her shower gel and considered wiping down his pits. Nah, not today, not for Tony.
The fall air was clean, smelled of pine and burning leaves. Eugene, Oregon.
"Hey Tony, that's a lot of truck you got here," as John hoisted himself up into the passenger seat. "You know what they say, right?"
Tony said nothing, his hands gripped the wheel with his eyes fixed forward.
"They say, 'nice truck, sorry about your dick.'"
John laughed nervously.
Engine still running, Tony shifted the truck into gear, and the pickup shuddered before backing out onto Willamette Avenue.