I snatched the Cheetos from you. We watched as the would-be bird assassin hoisted an ACME brand anvil up the side of a cliff, waiting for his prey to approach.
"Maybe he doesn't really want to catch the Road Runner," I said.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, maybe he enjoys the chase. They have a good thing going. He thinks up a plan, she thwarts it, he lives to fight another day."
"What makes you think the Road Runner is a girl?"
"I don't know," I said. "I've always thought of her that way."
You laughed when the anvil meant for said Road Runner landed, against all odds, on Wile E. himself.
"But he always gets hurt!" You said. "Who would put up with that sort of torture, day after day, just to come back for more?"
I looked at you, your eyes glued to the screen, while your hand reached for the snacks. It missed, grazing my knee instead.
I took in a sharp breath.
"Maybe it's enough just to see her every day."