Fenced
an excerpt

The thread count of her new sheets was 250. The old ones had been 120, she thinks, and they hadn't been washed in 3 months, because both she and her boyfriend hated how awkward it was to wrestle them onto the bed. The solution, they had discovered, was just to never take the sheets off. That solved the whole problem until the lemon yellow had turned to the gray color you find in hard boiled egg yolk if you boil it for too long. If sex was good on the old sheets, it would definitely be better on these new sheets, because she was less likely to get rug burn from the little balls that mysteriously popped up all over the sheet as it got worn out.
She admired how the green in the sheets made the walls seem a nicer shade of white, like maybe they were white because she wanted them that way and not white because all apartment walls are white. A computer sat on a metal folding chair by the bed, with all the cords resting on top of the laundry bin in the middle of the room to keep the dog from chewing them. A huge stuffed elephant was stuck in a mid-summersault pose on top of the dresser. Books stuck out of dresser drawers and clothes were piled up behind his computer, which was on a real desk, but the drawer to it was laying on the floor. He had gotten mad and thrown it there because it never stayed on anyway and his knees kept hitting against it. Two blankets were piled on the bed, one blue and green with what they imagined to be an Egyptian looking pattern in gold, and a purple one from her room back home because sometimes one twin size blanket wasn't big enough for a queen sized bed. There was a hole in the wall only partly covered by a lopsided picture of a pyramid. There was an indent next to it, where his fist had landed the first time but hadn't gone through.
Later, he told her to jerk it up and down a little, instead of massaging like she was doing.
"You said you liked it better that way though."
"I do, most of the time." He paused. "And it seemed easier for you, because see how the bed shakes when you do it this way."
Pretty soon her arm wore out; he finished up. She stared at the alarm clock until he fell asleep and she went to his computer.
"You're not playing that dumb game again, are you?" he muttered. "Yes," she answered.
""You can't play that on my computer. Call the cable company and get them to hook up your internet."
She rolled her eyes. He sat up. "I can't sleep while you're clicking on that thing."
"If you don't want me using yours, I'm just going to get on mine and you still won't be able to sleep."
"But at least I'd have something to do while you were keeping me awake."
"Fine," she said. "You can have it. But you need to roll over or something, I moved my computer and now I need to sit on the bed to use it." He didn't move. She crawled into the bed beside him and laid her head on his chest. He stroked her hair and she could feel his broken cuticles scratch her cheek.
"Want a quesadilla? I bought refried beans when I went out for the sheets."
"That's right, bitch. Make me food."
"Never mind, you don't want one."
"Maybe later?" He kissed her.
"Okay." She loved the way his lips were so light they almost matched his skin. He rolled over and she moved with him. There was a small wet spot on the bed. She stared at it. What was it? Sweat? She stared harder to make it dry faster.
"Are you really not going to make me one? Baby, I'm hungry."
"Okay." She didn't move. He licked her nose. She bit his lip. He pushed her off the bed, she dragged one of the new sheets with her.
He watched her leave the room, a soft trail of sheets following her.