head was heavy. But he had never in all their forty-two years said so. He was just glad it was
her
head. Out of everyone in the world, Susan was the one mucking around in his life, routinely pissing him off.
It could have been a lot of other women,
he thought to himself, a few females spilling through his mind.
Nope.
It was Susan! Of course it was.
Like magic Susan lifted her head off his shoulder and stared out the window. Henry glanced at her and grinned. At sixty-six, Susan had become thinnerâmore frail, with bright streaks of white in her hair.
What would I do without her?
he thought, knowing full well that this sort of thinking was a two-headed beast. Just as he was quietly loving her, he was also manipulating himself into it. But he didnât mind. The love came.
Henry pulled into the first gas station he saw and a pimpled attendant in a red vest walked up. The guy stared, then tapped on the glass. Henry rolled down his window. âYes?â
âYou know we have full service,â the guy said, pointing.
Henry cut his eyes and stared. âYes I do know that.â
âOkay.â The guy shrugged and walked away.
âAgeist little twerp,â Henry said, rolling up his window. âI can
walk
for Christâs sake.â
âPeople have treated me like that my whole life,â Susan huffed. âAlways assuming I need
help
. Now that youâre old youâre getting a taste of what itâs like,â she said with a wry smile, âto be female.â
âWhoâs old?â he said, thumbing the screen of his phone. He saw an icon of a snowflake and paused for a few seconds, not quite registering the little picture.
âIf Iâm old then youâre old,â she said. âAnd I
am
old.â
âNonsense,â he said and gave her a hard little peck on the cheek. âYouâre my spring chicken. My honey bunny.â
Back on the road Susan pointed to some graffiti on a billboard. Huge, cloud-like letters spelled something, though she didnât know what. It may as well have been in another language. âGod,â she marveled. âI canât believe someone actually stood up there and wrote that. Itâs so
high
.â
âThatâs why Iâm not worried about someone cleaning our windows,â Henry said. âItâs probably the same people.â
Susan opened a bag of black licorice and reached in. She eyed the speedometer. âSlow down, will you
please
? Youâre making me sick.â
âAl
right
,â he said as if she had already asked him many times. He relaxed his foot on the gas pedal, bringing the needle down only slightly.
âI wish we could take a train there,â Susan said, chewing the candy. âTrains put me right to sleep.â
Henry glanced at his wife. âIn Russia you canât sleep on trains,â he said.
âWhy not?â
âYou wake up without organs.â
âHenry.â
âEither your kidney or your liver.
Gone.
I think the demand for livers is higher thanââ
âHenry, please.â
âThe future has been here for a long time,â he said in a kind of trance. âWeâre not even people anymore.â
âThatâs
enough
,â Susan said firmly. But it was too late. Her mind already contained a sloshing cooler of organs. She set the bag of licorice down in the drink holder, feeling nauseous. âYou know what I find really disgusting?â she said. âHarvesting.â
âOh I
know
,â Henry said, nodding adamantly.
âJust the thought of someoneâs organs kept alive . . . without them.â
Henry made an empathizing hum.
Susan tilted her seat back and arranged her scarf over her face.
 â¢Â â¢Â â¢Â
When she woke, Henry was outside pumping gas. It was dark and a light snow had begun. The grass looked slick.
âWe should stop,â she said when he got back in the
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