Ninety Three

Joe feels vaguely superior to everyone he meets. He’s the only one still eating fig newtons. He has quiet seizures and jolts his head against countertops. Joe is a realtor, and doesn’t walk his beagle often enough. One day his ex girlfriend knocks. She barges in to where the dog is sleeping on his bed and kicks it in the face. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” she says, grins, and leaves.