Schinesisch

Jenny says Schinesisch when it should be Chinesisch and I’m not the one who’s going to correct her. We went to get Chinese food and she ordered it like that, and the place just smiled and didn’t blink. We stuffed ourselves with sweet and sour pork and sukiyaki and made crude jokes the whole time, the kind of stuff that should’ve gotten us thrown out. She laughed anyway.

The staff kept smiling. Always. That’s already how it works. I love her anyway, the way she keeps getting it wrong.

There’s a download available now that supposedly matters. Everything already feels spent somehow. The joke, the place, the mispronunciation. You do something once and it sticks. You do it again because at least you know what’s coming. One day you realize you haven’t changed anything, you’re just repeating yourself. That’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore.

Today everything’s already done.