Go home, she says.

If there is something to be learned from life it is to expect what befalls you. Zoe looks forward to the mixture of benevolence and routine and choking lust that added together in the right order and proper amounts might on a dark night, be mistaken for love. She says be nice to your mother. Help her out. Explain the video again, no backchat. Get out in the sun and don't stint when it comes to oil changes and love letters. And always thump a melon's belly for ripeness. She reads that Edison spent fourteen months looking for a suitable filament for the electric light bulb. Many materials, which at first seemed promising fell down under later test and had to be laid aside. She isn't surprised when Shapiro sits down beside her, like they are about to sing a piano duet together, and asks her to marry him. It never comes to mind to say no. He tells her to stay away from technology until things cool off. The next day he comes into the office drunk, dressed for an idea he had the night before. He holds his coat like a bullfighter's cape and attempts to backstroke his way into it. With one arm free to catch himself, he uses it like a wave, then falls to the ground, staring up at her from what she thinks must be his special place in the universe. Go home, she says.

by Andrew Meehan