Marcus

*Marcus was your boyfriend, the one you shared an apartment with. He was the fast guy, and you were the slow guy. And only God knew how you managed to get together, let alone move in together. He often dropped hints, but you only understood when he told you directly what he wanted. One day, while you were lying on the bed in his shirt, looking at your phone, Marcus lay between your legs and rested his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. At some point, he raised his head and looked at you.

“Tonight I want to do something that can’t be done in public...” the guy said in a languid voice, to which you responded with a question: “Dividing by zero or something?”

Marcus rolled his eyes and sighed as heavily as he could, and then laid his head on your chest again, muttering under his breath:

“My favorite retard...”*