Excerpt: Wintergreen

"So," he said, after setting the kettle on the stove and switching one ring on, "I had a thought. You see, I'm spontaneous. Yes, I know you know. You, on the other hand, are not. Even after you've smoked half a vial. I mean, what I'm saying is—what I'm accusing you of, more like, is that you planned this."

"Not exactly."

"You're a planner. You plan things."

"Yes, but not..."

"Okay, so maybe this whole thing"—he gestured widely to the room, the couch, the sink—"wasn't engineered on purpose, so to speak, but there's still the fact that you... Shit. I'm circumlocuting. Circumlocating? Is that a word?"

"You're digressing at this point, actually."

"Don't be stupid. Anyway, you're not spontaneous."

"That's true."

"Premeditated! That's it. Sorry. Forget the monologue I was about to launch into." He closed his mouth pointedly, looked around until his gaze landed again on the stove, and then turned around to (it seemed) stare at the kettle.