You kissed your palm just the way you thought you would kiss him. And he doesn’t believe in God, and his hands are very rough, and he likes that dimple you have at the bottom of your cheek. You hate that dimple. You think you may be in love with him just because he likes that dimple. He has a small mouth, and you think he may be sixteen, or seventeen, or eighteen. You don’t care. You love him, but he doesn’t love you, and he does what he wants. He tells you his name, and his last name is hard to pronounce; it is so hard to pronounce. You are looking at his shoes, and when you look up, it isn’t him at all.

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