The top of the Heinz ketchup bottle at the Neptune Diner looked secure–I am sure it was on tight. But as I stare at the tomatoey Rorschach splotch adorning the front of your date night dress, I guess I must have misjudged the synchronicity between white metal top with its spiral grooves and the striated glass of the neck. There must have been misalignment somewhere to allow for such chromatic chaos on periwinkle poplin. I am so sorry. Send me the dry-cleaning bill. How else can I make it up to you? Then, from behind the counter, two rice puddings in glass towers made for sundaes, whipped cream like fluffy white spires on La Sagrada Familia, arrive with a wink and a quick on the house. And you? I love rice pudding, you say, as you paint the red stain over your heart and into mine.

An MFA candidate at Arcadia University, Philip Andrew Lisi lives in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, where he teaches English by day and writes poetry and flash fiction by night alongside the ghost of his cantankerous Wichienmaat cat, Sela.