“What do you mean?” She asked innocently. “You’ve asked me of my opinion of you a few times today, all of which while blushing. Plus, even though we didn’t know each other back before I left, you’ve been taking every opportunity to follow me and talk to me. I hope you’ll pardon me for being so blunt and presumptuous, but I think you’re attracted to me. If I’m wrong, then I’m sincerely sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.” He explained with pleasant confidence. “No, you’re wrong!” Victoria embarrassingly exclaimed. As soon as the words were spoken, she bit her lip. Why did she say that? Shouldn’t this have been the moment she confessed her feelings? Wasn’t this the perfect moment to come out and say it? And yet… she was terrified. “Very well, I apologize.” Jack chuckled. Victoria smiled as she felt her feelings grow stronger. “Tell me Jack, how did you know what to say to Tyler? He’s always been an asshole, but it’s like you broke him?” She asked. “Humans are not difficult to. Her steps were awkward, strange, like she was an infant, her body brand new. Sitting down at the long wooden table, she caught a glimpse of summer, the trees swaying gently, leaves ripe, green, soaked rather fully, sagging on the vine. An African American fellow in red sweats, his eyes like two poached eggs, his mouth unable to close properly, served her breakfast. It was an English Muffin, its sides blackened and curled, curled like a fetus. Why Amanda hadn’t thrown up, she didn’t know. She lifted the plate up, a stream of butter soaking through, forming a greasy, piss colored puddle. A giant glob of butter was staring back at her, sliding across the undercooked surface. A patch of ice, like skin, was imbedded deep within the nooks and crannies. To think, she had loved English Muffins once upon a time. The present: ‘Have a line,’ Glory beamed, eyes sparkling as she sniffed her nose, arms around Amanda’s shoulders. ‘You’re high,’ grinned Amanda, the whiskey sliding down her throat,.
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