Sweet Dreams, My Nemesis

I took pictures of Hank while he was sleeping. Unlike me, smoke does not come out of his nose when he snores. Instead, his lips grow and shrink like an inflatable mattress. His plastic body crinkles when he breathes in and out. When he dreams of nice things, he blows kisses into the air. When he dreams of funny things, he snorts and giggles. When he dreams of bad things, he opens and closes his mouth and smashes his sharp teeth together while growling.

Every time I snapped a picture, little hearts came out of the end of my cigarette and I blushed.