There was scribbled writing on it. ‘Kathryn,’ it read, followed by a cellphone number. I reached for the next. It was a piece of card torn from th... corner of a menu or some such. ‘Please, please, please call me. Your Sara,’ and a number again. I felt in my pocket again, the next was also card but seemed more regularly shaped. It was a passport-type photograph of the delicate otherworldly-looking blonde girl. On the back was written, ‘Fuck me.’ There was no name, just a number. ‘What have you. “Sure. The light switch is on the right,” he informed. I stood up pulled my flowery dress down and made my way to the room; I looked to the right as I saw the light switch. I flipped it up and walked over to a big shelf with plastic drawers where it had pencils, pens, markers, etc. I was looking and digging for a mechanical pencil because who really wants a regular pencil. Not me. It was taking forever; everyone goes through his pencil shelf. Ah hah, I finally found one. I closed the drawer and. More

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