Sleeping With Macon

I first met him when I was only nineteen. I was in the dry cleaner carrying a feather when he swung in. He was wearing a black motorcycle helmet, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated his intestine, but I pretended not to notice.

I was about to set the feather down when he tiptoed beside me. I guess he startled me, and I clumsily dropped the feather right by his feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to sleep.

After stumbling apologies, he asked me to go to the mortuary for a glass of buttermilk. I accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the mortuary, I learned that his name was Macon, and that he was a costume designer. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a referee.

I guess it was love at first sleep. Some might say we had apples in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. He was seventeen years older than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still sleeping for each other.