Dysgeusia
Christopher Notarnicola
A friend set me up with a date during post-deployment leave. I was excited to be home. My date was excited to be with a Marine. I tried to take us for ice cream but couldn’t find the place I had in mind, confused by new landmarks or the absence of old ones. We parked in a strip mall by a late-night massage clinic that might have replaced the ice cream shop. She didn't mind, even joked about going in for a couples treatment. The neon in the window lit her face like a car fire. I slumped over the steering wheel and sobbed until she told me she’d like to go home. Which direction is home, I asked, and she pointed the way.
