And then we went to her room and lay together; drunkenly, sloppily, unspectacularly, and after a while, I dreamed: of lightning permeating everything and rain pounding the roof like nails, like hail; of wives and friends and girlfriends and my father—most of whom I hadn’t seen in years; of small, predatory dinosaurs, deinonychuses, with dark skin and wet backs—who held vigil around our bed like cultists, like priests, and who trilled, softly, faintly, as though they were meditating. As though they were communing.
––––––––
“What I can’t figure is, how they even got in,” I was saying, as I stared at the muddy prints. “I mean. I know they opened doors in Jurassic Park, but, come on.”
Naomi blushed and shrunk, noticeably. “Yeah— well. That would be me. I’d been trying to air the house out,
