The sun set as Patricia zoomed off under the careful direction of G-zee’s almost-too-late directions, twisting the steering wheel at the last second and upsetting the pigs in the backseat.

“Sorry Wee Mary Beth!” Patricia shouted behind her shoulder. She wasn’t really all that sorry, fast was her kind of speed, and it was nice that G-zee wasn’t squealing nearly as loudly as the pigs.

“Here! Right here!” G-zee screamed, somehow upside down in his chair and using his flip-flopped foot to point towards another dirt road that glowed in the set of the sun.

Three more clouds of dust later and Patricia slammed the brakes in front of what looked like a copse of wild hedges and a listing barn that looked like Italian architecture.

“This is it?” Patricia asked, out from the car in a flash and opening the back door to allow the pigs their freedom as well.

There was a single dim light attached over the wide barn doors that flickered on and off with angry zipping noise. Looking around, Patricia wasn’t able to pick out much else. She could hear the sharp chirps of night, a couple of roosting animals, and the occasional low of a cow somewhere in the distance. Oddly, there was no bark from a dog, and Patricia always assumed that was the most basic necessity for having a farm.

“Yeah,” G-zee said, falling out of the car. “It doesn’t look like much at night, but it doesn’t look like much during the day either.”

“You don’t even have a dog.”

“Well, no, but, yeah, we did. He got old, and then . . . Well.”

Patricia’s eyes stung and she slid across the hood of the car to wrap G-zee in a warm embrace, waiting for his warm tears to moisten her shoulder. But they didn’t.

“Yeah,” G-zee continued, patting Patricia on the back and leaning in closer to her. “I moved him inside cause of his hips and all. Plus he’s kind of deaf and blind and so was really bad at guarding the animals.”

Patricia couldn’t decide if she should step back from the hug to see the dog, or if she should keep on with the hug since G-zee felt nice.

“I can get the pigs settled and then I can show you to him, he’s a nice fella, but a little bit unaware with the whole being blind and deaf thing.”

And that’s precisely what they did, with Patricia taking every obvious and unobvious moment to touch G-zee, which included one or two “accidental” smacks across the head.

Once the pigs were settled and G-zee had learned how to protect his head better, he led Patricia back towards the copse of hedges.

“You don’t need to wear that helmet,” Patricia whined. She liked G-zee’s hair, and the dusty old football helmet blocked a lot of his face from sight. “I didn’t mean to smack you with the gate, I swear.”

“Well it’s not just for you, we gotta get through the forcefield and the helmet might help with that, can’t believe I never thought of that before.”

“Force field?” Patricia asked, eyeing the hedges that G-zee wordlessly pointed at. “You live in there?”

“I’m not great at gardening and really pruning is kind of mean to the plants, “ G-zee said, caressing one of the prickly stalks shooting out from the force field. “So, I just kind of deal with it.”

“You’re so kind-hearted,” Patricia sighed, fanning her chest and fluttering her eyes.

G-zee paused to rub the helmet. “Huh. Most people say soft-headed.” Then he plunged into the thicket.

Patricia sighed again, and followed behind, barely feeling the scritching-scratches of the sharp foliage, or the twigs and huge-ass branches getting shoved in and down her shirt and pants, even shoes. She barely noticed how G-zee did little to hold back the branches from smacking her in the face or stomach, or how he seemed to have forgotten he was even being followed.

Just as Patricia was about to admit that perhaps she felt a few of these things, a white door appeared from amongst the shrubbery gone wild.

“Yes!” G-zee said with an excited fist pump that banged into a branch. “Fucking found it!” He turned around, bowed low-ish, got a branch in the face, and kicked the door open behind him. “Yo casta esta mine.”

Patricia very seriously doubted she would ever call it hers, but she would be okay with maybe spending a weekend or two in the Casta of G-zee. It was a sweet two-story house that would likely taste very dry and powdery now that it was so covered with spider-webs, dust, and dirt. At first, Patricia had thought the floors and walls were brown-colores, but a puff from the carpet when she walked in and a badly mislaid hand proved it was dirt. All of it was dirt. There were footprints in the carpet that showed G-zee’s usual treds of the day: from upstairs, to bathroom, to couch, to the kitchen and then out the door.

Sticking to the path of the treds, Patricia glanced at the possibly brown-leather couch that was worn nearly down to its wooden frame. A small pillow lay at one end, and a balled-up blanket squatted in the center like an overgrown dust bunny. In front of the couch was a coffee table covered with dozens of piles of paper that were scribbled over with red ink in frantic slashes. Patricia didn’t care to read what was on there, since she wasn’t the prying type, and moved on into the kitchen.

“You want a full tour?” G-zee asked from the living room, not noticing that he was perhaps a tad bit late on his offer.

“I’d love one!” Patricia laughed from the kitchen. “Do you live alone?”

She really hoped he did. Why else would his kitchen be such a picture of perfection? The stainless steel sink gleamed in the overhead lights Patricia flicked on, as did the smart fridge on Patricia’s left which was flanked by a mop. In the center was a sleek white-marble topped island complete with modern-looking bar chairs and a glass stove-top. Behind the island was a row of counters that featured evenly-spaced top-of-the-line appliances that included a lot of stuff for making coffee. The floor was spotless, and Patricia felt a little abashed for bringing some of the dust from the living room into this sanctuary to culinary shit.

“Yeah,” G-zee answered from behind her. “Sorry about the living room, I only clean one room a month, and yesterday was the cleaning day for the kitchen.”

Patricia nodded, thinking G-zee much more cleverer than what she had initially suspected. “That explains a lot. How many months ago was your room?”

“This is the last room before I start all over again, and I start at the top,” G-zee said, rubbing the helmet absently. “It’s been more than a month, that’s for sure.”

Patricia shrugged her shoulders. She had no problems making love in the kitchen, the counters gave for excellent leverage.