She thought she had white wings. I didn’t see any wings anywhere, but I didn’t want to disagree. “They’re beautiful wings,” I said, “but really they have a bit of yellow and blue in them.” “Yes,” I like that," she said and lifted both of her arms as if ready to embrace me or fly away.
I gave her a purple ribbon that I found at a table in the bar. She took the ribbon and stared at it for a moment. “Thank you,” she said. “You must think I’m an angel.” Then she walked across the room and dropped it in the garbage can.
She said my lips were salty. I said her lips were salty, which is why she thought my lips were salty. She shook her head. “You’re the saltiest person I know. It’s as if you were dipped in seawater.”
She looped the ribbon around a swath of her hair and tied it. I touched her cheek, ready to kiss her but then my hand reached up to pull the ribbon loose. She grabbed my hand. “Uh uh,” she said. “That’s there for a reason. Not sure about you.” She let go of my hand. “Are we back to this again?” I asked. “Back to what,” she said. “The same old loop,” I answered. She removed the ribbon and tossed it toward me; it floated between us like an unanswered kiss.