Toni and I Meet Sans Emerz

I text Toni, my grammar perfect. In this way, I date myself. She responded with a slew of new acronyms. Acronyms, they cover all manner of sins. After hours of deciphering I realized it included her address. In this way, I date Toni.

The Metro North out of New Haven smells like urine. To pass the time I try to recall sexual partners. That gets me as far as West New Haven.

"So how far is Emerz into The Pelican Brief?" she asks, as we stroll towards a frozen hot chocolate.

"Not as far as he might like," I say. "He's always distracted by interracial couples. Sad, in this day and age."

"That movie came out 16 years ago," says Toni. "It has nothing to do with our day and age."

Toni's roommate is the zeitgeist. I decide not to press it.

"So how did he get the job anyways?" I ask.

"Ugh," she says. "At Fleck, Kuehnle, Potter and Potter? Trust me, it's not that hard. I'm guessing the associate went to Buckley, maybe a wristwatch changed wrists, there may have been some inference of black mail on Emerz' part concerning a semester of mine at Millbrook that got cut short. But congratulate him for me, if you feel up to it."

"Do you love Emerz?" I ask.

"Do you?" she says, and she won't take yes for an answer.