Chances Are

Found myself crunching some numbers last night. Working some probabilities, and odds, based on little to no evidence of the proposed action occurring, beyond the likeliness of the hour, the day, and the social patterns of the subject in question…and for no real reason other than it’s possible, and happens to be the most interesting and moving train of thought available at the time: what are the chances that she’s getting royally nailed at this very moment? Body soaked, hair ruined, eyes closed, mouth open…what are the odds? Very near impossible, I imagine, as experience has proved…but it certainly seems more than likely to occur, or to have occurred, at some point in the evening. So where are we now, then? Equal odds, I imagine, for having yet to occur; perhaps standing in the bathroom, slipping into something a little more comfortable– or for it having occurred already; tangled and asleep, or maybe dressing in the dim with broad smirks or stony-guilt faces. Which is most distressing. Her pleasure? His? Or my own unusually overriding appreciation for the ability to feel distressed at all.