by Michael Obilade
The lovers embraced in a passionate confluence of energy. She grabbed his hair, dragging nails across his back as he clenched her thighs, buried his lips in her breasts. Sodas splashed, customers cheered as they made unrestrained love against the cash register. People peered through the drive-through peephole in awe. The manager screamed a high E, shattering windowpanes everywhere. "And that," Ben answered, "is why Julie and I were fired from the Burger Bonanza yesterday."
Michael Obilade lives and writes in Massachusetts, where he is learning to play the banjo.