This time, his hands were definitely shaking. “Can’t have too much privacy,” she said with a smile, then opened her arms. –“I have nothing to say.”
He sat, and thought of more and more, and shed a tear–not from the pain, but because there was none. After a short, bitter phone call–“I have nothing to say” was all she told him, in a voice as cold as ice–they had no more contact for more than fifteen years. “If I can get back to the hotel without hitting anything,” he said. He began to smoke more pot, because only then could he feel better just because he wanted to and turn the memories off. I may have to meditate right here.”
They laughed, and she kissed him again.
