An excerpt from this Friday’s uncharacteristically melancholy release:
He had left the shirt behind because of the missing buttons. One of their first nights together she had straddled him, loosed his tie, and then ripped his shirt open, the buttons popping off as she bit his chest. He rolled over on top of her, quickly peeling off his shirt as she watched with glee, the buttons scattering into the dark corners of her room, never to be found. She had looked, many times.
It became a joke between them, how she was going to sew the buttons back on one day. She was a horrible seamstress.
And the buttons were long gone.