At night, we eat. We watch movies, except those in which the walls breathe. He cleans the guinea pig pen if I ask him once, nicely. After dinned, he clips closed open foods, and once a week he organizes recyclables. Of course we buy tissues in bulk and nose sprays and inhalers.
Eye drops and the red pills, too.
My lover sneezes in fours. He would become irrational to know such a fact, which in itself might cause an accident. They say that in urban environments on humid days, air is horrid. It's not just the dust anymore collecting on the stereo. We are dying at the hands of something life-sustaining, something we can't see.