Whatever part that may be, it’s not the one that matters, though. The world is moving a little bit even though I’m standing still, and that’s no... cool. The wine has stained my lips. It makes them look wounded or bruised. I examine them for a moment while I try to file through blotchy memories. Embarrassment is always probable when you get that wasted, but I don’t think I did anything too stupid… Oh. Except. I kissed Jasmine Knox. Jesus Christ, I fucking kissed her. I drop to my knees before the. I can’t look at her, or rather I won’t. She puts a hand to my face and makes me. The rainwater is flowing down her nose and cheeks in little rivulets, her short dark hair plastered to her head. She is so very beautiful – that’s part of the problem. Her hazel eyes are full of tears, all her earlier bravado left far behind with the car. This is the real woman, here and now: the lonely lover, the scared little girl. She is giving me her vulnerability to touch. She tells me she still loves me. More

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