She came in through the bathroom window, which scared the shit out of me. Actually, that's not true. The shit was coming out just fine until she came in. Then, however, my bowels clenched up on me. I guess, more accurately, that it startled the shit into me. Semantics.
Anyway, there I was on the toilet with my trousers around my ankles when she appeared. She was very nice, didn't even comment on the smell, and it was bad, that something-died-in-my-colon smell I emit when I'm hung over. We had really tied one on the night before. I think we'd been celebrating Bastille Day, or maybe it was Tet. I don't know, some excuse to drink.
Perched on the windowsill, she looked to be feeling a hell of a lot better than I did. I was surprised. I'd spent my night in a bed. Okay, the bed was spinning, but it was a bed. She, on the other hand, had spent the night passed out face down under the neighbor's hedges. Other than some smudges of dirt on the tip of her nose and above her left eyebrow, however, she looked great.
"You know," she said. "They say that if you can watch someone taking a dump and not be grossed out, then it's true love."
"Really?" I said, crossing my legs, trying to act casual.
"Am I making you nervous?" she asked.
"Not at all." A lie.
"Mind if I take a shower?" she asked.
"Go right ahead." I'm sure my voice cracked.
