pores

I never said you couldn't go.

Well, you implied it. You totally fucking implied it. Your facial expression. Your body language. Every pore on your body pushed out a NO.

Now you're just being crazy. Pores don't have a language.

Yours do. Your pores get involved in every conversation we have. They sell that pore shrinking shit specifically for people like you, to shut you down, to give other people the chance to breathe.

So go, then.

Oh, nooooo.

Go and have a wonderful time.

Ohhhh no. You're not getting me that way. That's mother guilt right there. You SAY for me to go, but there's punishment waiting for me somewhere down the road.

For God's sake, Jimmy, just GO.

I'll go. But I am warning you. If you punish me later, I will not stand for that shit. I will not stand for that shit.

I'll try to keep my pores under control.

Fine. You do that.

Good-bye.

I'm gonna kiss you good-bye. Try to pretend you like it.

He kisses her on the cheek. She smiles. He goes out the door, slowly, looking back at her several times. She picks up the telephone.

Hello? Yeah, it's June. Ask Bo how long it would take to move all of Jimmy's things out to the curb and can he do it right now. No, no furniture. Just clothes, shoes, some sports stuff and knick-knacks. I'll need boxes.