We met at the theater and of course we were about a half hour early for the movie. I remembered what I had said to her earlier about the kiss and when...I saw her coming up the steps to the theater, I walked over to her and placed my arms on her shoulders. I think I was actually intending to do it, but something in her body language told me it would not be appreciated, so I awkwardly brushed my hands across her cute face, and kind of half-hugged her and said (brilliantly, as usual) "uh, Hi!, It's. There they were.” “They met five days ago?” he asks, clarifying that point of the story. “Well, I thought they met at that house party we had, remember when we played quarters and that night you and me and...well anyway, he was there. But, I don’t know, I could see they hit it off, and I should have said something. I just, I don’t know…” I trail off, growing uneasy. “Wait, was this that one guy--” “Eugene?” I ask, wondering if that’s who he’s thinking of. “The sculptor ,” he says, and I. More

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