When Watched by Leopoldine Core

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 thinner—more 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 didn’t 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. “Yes?”
    â€œYou know we have full service,” the guy said, pointing.
    Henry cut his eyes and stared. “Yes I do know that.”
    â€œOkay.” The guy shrugged and walked away.
    â€œAgeist little twerp,” Henry said, rolling up his window. “I can
walk
for Christ’s sake.”
    â€œPeople have treated me like that my whole life,” Susan huffed. “Always assuming I need
help
. Now that you’re old you’re getting a taste of what it’s like,” she said with a wry smile, “to be female.”
    â€œWho’s old?” 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.
    â€œIf I’m old then you’re old,” she said. “And I
am
old.”
    â€œNonsense,” he said and gave her a hard little peck on the cheek. “You’re my spring chicken. My honey bunny.”
    Back on the road Susan pointed to some graffiti on a billboard. Huge, cloud-like letters spelled something, though she didn’t know what. It may as well have been in another language. “God,” she marveled. “I can’t believe someone actually stood up there and wrote that. It’s so
high
.”
    â€œThat’s why I’m not worried about someone cleaning our windows,” Henry said. “It’s probably the same people.”
    Susan opened a bag of black licorice and reached in. She eyed the speedometer. “Slow down, will you
please
? You’re making me sick.”
    â€œAl
right
,” 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.
    â€œI wish we could take a train there,” Susan said, chewing the candy. “Trains put me right to sleep.”
    Henry glanced at his wife. “In Russia you can’t sleep on trains,” he said.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œYou wake up without organs.”
    â€œHenry.”
    â€œEither your kidney or your liver.
Gone.
I think the demand for livers is higher than—”
    â€œHenry, please.”
    â€œThe future has been here for a long time,” he said in a kind of trance. “We’re not even people anymore.”
    â€œThat’s
enough
,” 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. “You know what I find really disgusting?” she said. “Harvesting.”
    â€œOh I
know
,” Henry said, nodding adamantly.
    â€œJust the thought of someone’s organs kept alive . . . without them.”
    Henry made an empathizing hum.
    Susan tilted her seat back and arranged her scarf over her face.
    Â 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.
    â€œWe should stop,” she said when he got back in the