The Untouchables

Elizabeth made sure he never knew. That her hair looked stringy when dirty. That her nose ran when she skied. That she held in a burp after dinner. That she sometimes drooled into her pillow at night.

She never said she was afraid, she never mentioned being depressed, although at times she was. Instead she smiled warmly whenever she saw him.

She smiled warmly and thought about sex. Would the scar on her belly or the pimples on her rear upset him? Could he love her with cold cream on her face? or with a tear in her eye?

She saw him and thought about sex; he saw her and thought about perfection. He was astonished she ared at all for him; he knew he was sloppy and inept. Still he thrived on her smiles.

Thrived.

So they smiled.

And that was all.