Broken morning, shattered across the floor. She looks at him. Says with her eyes, sorry i broke your things, but he is asleep, and he just snores, and she doesn't bother to wake him. Steam hissing out of the radiator, his prewar apartment does things like this. He gets it for cheap, twelve hundred a month with an extra bedroom where he keeps his desk and his books and his weight machine.

She makes coffee from the whole beans she finds in the cabinet. The grinder is loud. She lets it run too long. Not past six o'clock, but it's winter and the sun's up full and hard. She's naked, but she doesn't care. His pipes make noise, and the water is all white with oxygen. She hears the bubbles popping as a low shushing noise. She wonders if he'll fuck her across the kitchen table when he wakes up. She wonders if she could get wet for him.

She doesn't care that the shades are all open. Her nipples are hard, but the air's hot because radiators do that. She wonders what he would do if he stumbled out of the bedroom in his boxers and found her finger-fucking herself on the countertop. She wonders if he'd ask her to move so he could get coffee. She'd probably come saying fuck fuck you Casey. He would say, you made the coffee wrong. It would not be unusual.

She pulls a plastic box of raspberries from the refrigerator. Eating them by the window, staining her fingers, pressing up against the window with her breasts because she doesn't give a fucking damn anymore. She hears him coming and doesn't move. The glass is cold. He says, what the hell are you doing Dana? Hands on her ass, morning erection pressing up against her.

She says, what i can't be an exhibitionist? new york loves me. He slides his hands between her skin and the glass. Touches her breasts, pinches her nipples, rocks forward against her bare ass. Grinding back against him, just for kicks. Saying, i need a shower.

He says, oh a shower is a good idea. a very good idea. He thinks he's cute. She thinks he might be gay. Long histories stretching back to college, to frat parties, fucking drunk on the carpet, Casey and this other girl Isabel. He's got morning breath, hair sticking up. Cold as a bitch outside but there's no snow. Clear air. Broken hearts and necklaces, like when he snapped the chain pulling off her sweater, apologizing and making promises he wouldn't keep.

A good man. you just wanna get me all wet and soapy Casey you can't fool me. He says, who says i was trying to fool you? Rubs against her ass, and she thinks she could get him off in a couple minutes with her hands and some Herbal Essence body wash. She breathes against the window, fogging it up, traces a heart with a D and a C inside.