“There were backpacks, and Smash was there,” I say. “Hm,” says Pita. “Oh, and he’s dead now,” I remember. “Weird.” There is an awkward lull in the conversation. I am happy to let it die. But Pita adores small talk. “So, where is Smash from?” he asks, genuinely interested. I lean in and kiss him, this time because I want to. It feels good, and I instinctively reach for one of his breasts and start to massage it tenderly. Pita pops his left foot as he moans softly, moving his round, doughy head to invite me to kiss his neck. Just then a parachute floats to earth outside the cave. The distraction brings us out of the moment, and Pita jumps away from me, covering his breasts in indignation. I step out of the cave and retrieve Buttitch’s latest gift. It is a box full of circular, foil-wrapped candies. I unwrap the foil and find it’s not candy in there at all: the box is full of balloons. Slippery balloons. I’m not sure why Buttitch would send us these slippery balloons in this time of great hunger, but I inflate all of them and decorate the cave like it’s my birthday.
