“You don’t look like a math person,” he said. I didn’t answer—the numbers pulsed behind my eyelids, jagged and incomplete where the third side should’ve been. My fingers twitched toward the chips of ice in my whisky, “straight up neat.” I ask him if he was a hypotenuse type person. He responded, ” a hippopotamus is too hard to house train, but my ex-wife has a chihuahua.” I’d spent fourteen hours tracing the same Pythagorean nightmare across napkins in three different bars, a car wash and a massage parlor with a neon sign that kept buzzing. “Buddy,” I muttered, dragging the condensation off my glass to sketch a right angle. “You ever wake up missing something that wasn’t yours to begin with, like your virginity?” He told me that he had never been to Virginia.
Rated for Everyone 
Hypotenuse
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Cleverly penned, Adagio. I met someone like that once, it’s a small world ain’t it? Amazing write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you, Damian