I respond, thoughts dropping away, like pebbles plopping one by one in water, sinking down, down into dark oblivion.

He stares at me so darkly, so hungily that I can only nod. Agree. Of course, I feel it. "I do", I admit.

[H]er mind was like a balloon with static cling, attracting random ideas as they floated by[.]

An idol mind is a devils workshop, a busy mind is a devils timepiece, the quartz clock and a blank mind reflects the self as well as others.

You cold?' He chafes my arms. I haven't been cold since I moved here. This is something else. 'No. But you can put your arms around me anyway.

It's unclear who moves first. We're in each other's arms, lips locked, melded, hotly fused. Our hands drag over each other, reacquainting, remembering, almost as if we're both verifying the other one is real flesh and blood.