The girl imagined that the boy was watching her as she shook wildly and whipped her hair around in the middle of the crowd.
He was watching her the way you watch a dog cross the street - with vague interest and a tight stomached hope.
She sipped her PBR through a straw like an idiot.
"Hi, how are you?" Asked the boy.
"Mm," she licked her lips and swallowed, "let me stop you there. I’m on orders from my doctor not to fraternize with any boys."
He laughed and they each went home alone.
She watched porn alone and he watched the West Wing alone.
It was fine.
They are in Berlin.
"But I loved growing up Catholic. There was something so powerful about the way they respected metaphor, and all of the symbols, and the incense and so on. They expected you to understand that there are truths that are not overt, but implied, and that the best way to imply that…