When Ry arrived home Elizabeth had left. The insects swarming the porchlight grew to plague proportions. He yanked open the door and stomped inside. When Erin stood up from the couch to say hello, he ran to her and tackled her back onto the couch. She wrapped her legs around his waist, put her hands on the side of his face and kissed him deeply. They pulled at their clothes like they were corrosive and required immediate removal.

Later, catching their breath, Erin asked him: "Good day or bad?"

"What?" Ry asked.

"When you come in that hot, it's either been a really good day or a bad one."

"Bad. I made a hundred bucks and got a ticket that will absolutely be twice that."

"I had to ride a donkey and realized that adjusted for inflation, I made more at my job as a grocery store cashier."

"Another round?"

"It's imperative."

* * *

"He hasn't picked up his groceries?"

"Nope. No word from him at all. I called the police for a wellness check, but nothing."

"What if he wasn't full of shit?" Erin asked.

"It would explain what's happening with our stuff missing."

They sat on the floor of the trailer by the couch, on a pallet of their discarded clothing, under the cool breeze of the window unit. They sipped from a wine bottle passed back and forth.

"I know Westy likes to chew on things, but how the hell could he make off with a plastic Santa? That thing was three feet tall."

Ry nodded. "Tomorrow, I'm going to his place, he can be pissed all he wants."

"I'll go too. He better be okay and he better not evict us."

"We've gone from apartment to trailer, what's the next step? Cardboard box?"

"No, tent. Like a roomy tent, then a pup tent, then a box. We're gonna be okay."

Ry took a sip of wine and leaned his head on Erin's shoulder. "This sure isn't where I thought we would be."

"We're doing all right. We have each other. Also, you have to lean up, I'm hot and sweaty."

"Goddamn right, you're hot."

"Seriously. Get off me or I hit you."

Ry laughed and leaned away. He handed the bottle to Erin. She took a swig.

"If it could just be this. Us. None of the rest of it. This is what it's supposed to be."

"What?" Ry asked.

"This! Just... us together. Just the necessities. It's like everything we need to survive is designed to keep us from this."

"Maybe society will collapse. We can hunt squirrels and make clothes from them. Furry boxers for me, a tasteful fur bikini for you."

"The collapse of society isn't the solution for everything, Ry."

She rifled through the clothes, fishing her phone from her jeans. She checked their bank.

"Yep. Day three since we dropped off rent and it's not taken out. He's usually pretty quick. Shit, it looks like we actually have money. Hey, did I tell you about the woman that was staring at me at the game?"

"No, you didn't."

"Well, it sounds like nothing, but it was like she knew who I was. It was weird. A student said she was a witch."

"Sheralyne?"

"Sheralyne."

Outside, they heard a whistle. Ry stood up. Beside Erin, West Donaghy growled and backed away, moving behind the couch. The whistle happened again, a staccato rhythm to it.

"Jesus, the fuck is that smell?" Erin asked.

The foul odor filled the room. The window unit shuttered down, and they heard the whistle again. Only now, the sound of crunching grass and rock in the driveway accompanied it.

"What the hell is that?" Erin whispered. "Shit, Westing House Publishing just pissed on the floor."

"Remember what I said about the weird guy I saw when I checked on Jackson?"

"The one you ran away from?"

"I wouldn't... I didn't run away, I did flee though. I did."

They jumped at the sound of bending metal. Something slammed against the trailer, it rocked back and settled again. Ry stepped closer to Erin, who jumped up and held him. West Donaghy whined. They could hear the sound of people retreating through the grass. The whistle grew fainter. The sounds of insects returned, and the window unit cried on.

"I think Jackson might not be full of shit."