“What?!?” Dave didn’t like Rhonda’s guesses. And he didn’t like that she seemed to be kidding around. Because he had worked really hard on his painting, and it seemed like she wasn’t taking his efforts seriously.

“Yeah! Dead bloody moose in the middle of the road!” Rhonda motioned toward the painting again. “See? There’s the road and a bloody mash of moose. And this could be the car that hit it.”

Rhonda looked up at Dave, who was baffled by her guesses. “What?” he whined. “Are you serious? That’s what you see?!?”

“I don’t know! Relax!” she answered, finishing her beer and chucking the empty can in a bin full of returnables in the corner.

“No! I’m not gonna relax! ’Cause that’s not somethin’ I’d want to paint!!! That’s not even close to what it is! Dead moose?!? Come on!!!” cried Dave.

“Well, that’s what I see! I don’t know what it is!” said Rhonda, wondering why Dave was taking his painting so seriously. “And don’t get mad! At me! It’s not my fault I can’t see what you painted!”

“I’m not mad!” And Dave wasn’t mad. He was just frustrated. And he went over to the painting, picked it up, and looked at it, pained that Rhonda thought it was roadkill. And then he asked Rhonda, almost defeatedly, “You really don’t see what this is?”

“No,” said Rhonda, feeling stupid for not being able to see what Dave had painted for her.

Dave genuinely believed that Rhonda wasn’t seeing the image on the canvas he was holding in front of him. And he sighed. And said, “Well…” And he looked at his painting again. And then he looked at Rhonda again and gently asked, “Can I give you another hint?”

“Yeah!” said Rhonda, like she was saying “Duh!”

Dave kept looking at Rhonda. And started shifting his weight back and forth on his feet as he summoned the courage to do something he hadn’t done in a long time.

And then he dropped the painting on the floor and walked straight toward Rhonda—who was still sitting in her chair. And he looked right at her. And that strange lightness filled up his insides again and seemed to compel him to go to Rhonda and give her his hint.

Which was a kiss.

And probably the shortest kiss two people have ever shared. Because not even a second after he started kissing her, Rhonda pulled away from Dave and got up out of her chair so quickly that it tumbled over backward.

And the strange lightness Dave had been feeling faded again and was replaced by an awful darkness and heaviness.

Because now he felt like something was wrong. Very wrong.

Because Rhonda’s face was all turned in on itself. And she looked scared. And confused. And angry. And she hissed, “What are you doin’? What was that?!? Why did you do that?”

Dave gently answered, “’Cause I was givin’ you a hint.” And then he smiled weakly.

Rhonda scoffed and then inhaled sharply and then calmly and seriously said, “Well, you can’t just do that to someone. Like that.”