Phil Medici Episode 4: Call me maybe

She lay on my chest. Listening to my heart. Beat. Beatboxing- beating inside the box it was caged in. The heart content for it had gotten the object and subject of its affection. It skipped not a beat, pulsating rhythmically, no syncopation, none out of sync.  Not a single discord. If she listened closely, she’d hear it excitedly singing “Could I have this kiss forever”. The blood gushing through the chambers humming the melody, the valves opening and flapping close providing the percussion. It would be an Ode to Lyne. A perfect symphony. My left arm stroking her hair, the right drawing nonsensical patterns on her thigh pressing its weight on my full bladder. She is thinking of Rihanna’s California King Bed I imagine. Me- her California king.