I could hear him chortling behind the closed door as I walked away, smiling to myself. I had him — hook, line and sinker. ‘Damnit, Stacey!’ I sh...uted at the suitcase in the hotel room. It was bad enough I’d let her talk me into this quasi-insane plan, but apparently she’d repacked my bag when I’d snuck out of her bedroom to visit Michael. My carefully-chosen, not-too-casual, not-too-formal outfit I’d planned to wear that night was gone. In its place, I had an oh-so-short denim skirt, a vest,. We know the same songs that remind of us of long hot summer trips across boring flat states. we all feel deeply about our loss and our love. we all have parts of our bodies we wish looked better. we all look in the mirror at night and ask why we’re here. what’s so special, unique about one man and his tattooed arm?…a girl in pink panties lying on our bedroom floor telling us her life story in deadly detail? not much. when i think about love, how people do it, give it and lose it, i am amazed at. More

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