Russ and Aimee gazed at the popcorn machine, butts up against the counter of oversized Dots and Redvines. They studied his growing origami collection in a blissful, quiet between movies, the only sounds the Coming Attractions monitor, the video games, the high school students screaming out on the street, and a toilet in the men's room that wouldn't stop flushing.
"So no more cranes."
"No, no more cranes. Only these," and Russ leaned forward to jab a folded white paper taped to the front of the popcorn machine, "twelve of them now."
Aimee shifted her weight, made to move like she was going for the hot dog ferris wheel, leaned back where she was. "That's weird."
"No, not weird." Russ shifted his weight again, jabbed another folded heart and stood there, hunched, not wanting to turn around, not wanting to turn away, "They all have 'Aimee' written on the inside."