“Cold” isn’t the right word. It’s accurate, in the same way “nice” or “fine” is accurate in most settings, but not quite good enough.
It was a brisk, jarring, sobering chill. It wasn’t quite an ice cube down the shorts, more of a splash of water in the face. We both needed it as we ambled out into the night.
“Ah,” I said, taking in the chill. “I have no idea what I’m going to write about for tomorrow.”
“How about this place?” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, drawing out the words in that way that implies a guilty admission. “I was thinking about writing about us slapping the shit out of each other.” » Read the rest of this entry «