Yumi Putting on her clothes, she asked me if I had a girlfriend. I hesitated, then said, "No." "Well, then I girlfriend," she said. How easy. "My name 'Yumi,'" she said, "like 'You' and 'Me'." I gave here 200 dollars and, though I was a bit strapped for cash, felt good when she left. Two days later Carol came by. "How come you haven't called?" she asked. "I've been busy," I said, "some poems, some music, some ..." "Is that more important than our relationship?" she asked. "Sometimes," I said, being honest. She looked cross, unhappy. "Don't you have things you need to do sometimes"? I asked. "Maybe you need a new girlfriend," she said. It was a kind of threat. I then got the idea of paying anyone who thought they were doing me a favor. Getting out my wallet and handing her 200 dollars, I asked: "Wanna hop in the sack now or after dinner?" "You bastard," she said. She left, slamming the door, the 200 dollars still clutched in her hand. "Yumi," I said to myself, smiling. I could get used to that name. It was easy sounding.
	by Louis Martin