saturday: May. 21, 2002 (4:54 pm)

in his blue pen on my paper he wrote smile, then good. i underlined the next page, 'crying like a poet.' i wonder if he's ever noticed that lately we've touched for an instant, and then moved quickly into our own bubbles.

touch has been...like saturday, any pressure and every part of my hardens, nervous. afraid that they too think like paul.

at the same time, more afraid of what paul thinks. wonder why we haven't spoken since saturday.

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