Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. "What is your name?" To-day, however, he broke the monotony. She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone. “Why can’t we propagate by sexless spores, as the ferns do? We restrict each other, we badger each other, friendship is poisoned and buried under it!. “Was I that bad?” He asked.
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