“I don’t have time to think about myself. But sometimes I wake up and I’m just made of want. I don’t even know what for. It’s all caught in my chest in this big snarl, but I can’t pull it apart. And it hurts.” “You should see someone if that lasts more than four hours.” I aim a kick at his head and he rolls over in the grass, laughing, his shirt riding up over the smooth, olive skin of his hips.
