Y is the director of a rock museum in Vienna. It is the largest collection of rocks in the country. They have a rock that floats. Y’s brother is a famous soldier who shot an infamous local tyrant in the head. He was happy for his brother’s fame even though he felt superior to him. His obese wife bosses him and calls him Director when he neglects
her. She gets jealous when he spends too much time with the industrialists’ wives. They sleep in separate rooms.

A crowd of one hundred thousand reenact every year in the museum’s courtyard the story he wrote about the devil.

Y talks about fucking because he cant get an erection when he wants.
He has a rage issue.
The dead body of a young woman was recently disinterred in the city park not far from where Y was seen overturning rocks in a stream.
Now, Y can’t think. He can only wait
Y’s wife wanted a divorce. He dissuaded her with concessions. He had to protect her from herself and her righteous friends.

Has it been three years since Y saw Lorn the curator? She is working elsewhere. He’d like to find her. She doesn’t respect him which hasn’t stopped him before. He worries she will be bored with him and won’t tell him he’s boring. She will hurt him with her politeness. She lives life unlike himself and his rocks.Y’s wife was scared of her because she was big. She thought that she would beat her up.

The Dutch postal worker artist killed himself. He made geometric patterns. Geometry doesn’t apply anymore.
I want the postal worker’s drawings. I doubt Y will give them to me.

The curator who shares the same desk as Y has a gold chain, black hair, green eyes , a slender body and a large chest.    She asks questions. She asks Y what he likes. He likes how good she makes him feel when she asks him a question about what he wants.
The curator has a husband. He’s a big tall capable man. I think he has a weakness for women. They have an understanding but he is going to hurt her with another woman who will seduce him because she has nothing else to do.
The husband has a band. The curator plays his band’s cd for Y to listen to. A young woman sings something familiar and current.

The stones. Let’s not forget about the stones, I could never, it would be inexcusable not to heed them. The stone, Y, and the curator are one force of nature.
Do you think humans are inscrutable, I said.
I think it is easy to read people, the curator said. Only to a certain point, then
they are a mystery. I like running my fingers through your hair.
I like your collar bone, I said. It is like a feather.
The curator has bad skin, bad breath and bad hair. I had to keep my mouth above her mouth which wasn’t hard since I was the taller one.
We were in an ante room in the museum. It smelled like a dying river.
The curator was naked. She had no chest. She had long legs that made me believe in her. Her vagina was shaved and implacable. I saw Y drag the woman in the river the curator said. Are you sure it wasn’t a stone, I said.
An assistant to the assistant curator joined us. The curator kicks her. She doesn’t want her. No one does. I shove my soft cock into her mouth ear and nose. I can be
the second woman. The curator walks by me to remind me that she can ruin me. I am the second woman. Everyone is afraid of me.
Under a blue tarp five houses down the street under floodlights bones are
scrutinized by Y.

I’m here to see the curator. The days go by. I like to see what others are doing, to see if they are looking at me or what they are looking at. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do
at this awkward rock museum. Stare at rocks? This blue stone is called You Can Live Without Expectations.
A Chinese man in white jeans thumbs his phone.
I just saw a woman with cellulite I said. I saw her standing in red light and I saw
Some are born with it, the curator said.
The curator really has questionable teeth. There are too many of them and they are  small and sharp.
Everyday I think about getting a dead end job and greatness. My thinking in public is indecent. It reminds me of my father who does the same and pulls his long nose.