Who Cares About Everyone? What About Me?

I Feel The Urge, Familiar Now, To Wrench Myself From My Body And Speak Directly Into Her Mind. It Is The Same Urge, I Realize, That Makes Me Want To Kiss Her Every Time I See Her, Because Even A Sliver Of Distance Between Us Is Infuriating. Our Fingers, Loosely Woven A Moment Ago, Now Clutch Together, Her Palm Tacky With Moisture, Mine Rough In Places Where I Have Grabbed Too Many Handles On Too Many Moving Trains. Now She Looks Pale And Small, But Her Eyes Make Me Think Of Wide-open Skies That I Have Never Actually Seen, Only Dreamed Of.

Someone Shouts, "enough!" And I Think Too Much And Nothing At All.

Drink This," She Says. "what Is It?" My Throat Feels Swollen. I Swallow Hard. "what's Going To Happen?" "can't Tell You That. Just Trust Me." I Press Air From My Lungs And Tip The Contents Of The Vial Into My Mouth. My Eyes Close.

I Catch Myself Thinking 'thank God For This' Out Of Habit, And Then I Understand What He's So Concerned About. What If My Parents' God, Their Whole Belief System, Is Just Something Concocted By A Bunch Of Scientists To Keep Us Under Control? And Not Just Their Beliefs About God And Whatever Else Is Out There, About Right And Wrong, About Selfishness?

She Sighs, Then Breaks A Piece Off The Muffin In My Hand. 'hey. There Are Plenty More Just Five Feet To Your Right.' 'then You Shouldn't Be So Concerned About Losing Some Of Yours.' She Says, Grinning. 'fair Enough.