• Laughter. Blond hair. Smiles. Loud voices. Bawdy jokes. Brown eyes. Forgetting yesterday. A sense of nostalgia, of a new experience. Of warmth. Acceptance. Paranoia. Hesitation. More? An unhealthy escape. Why not? Who cared? No one. He did. No one.

    Intangible. Unintelligible. Insensible. Indescribable.

    "It won't hurt."

    That's all it had started out with. So he had gone along with it. It wouldn't, after all. He had drunk liquor before. It wasn't poisoned; he had made sure. No one was dying yet, either. And now...

    Just what was going on?

    Tugging. A wall. Thick gloves. Pushing. The floor. Warmth.

    "That's not fair." The first thing that came to his mind. "I'm drunk."

    More laughter. The smell of alcohol. Cold air on exposed skin. Pulling. His shirt.

    "So what? So am I."

    Hot breath on his face. Chapped lips. Hesitation.

    He opened his mouth only slightly, and that was his gravest mistake.

    Invasion.

    Tongue.

    Saliva.

    Hands.

    Too close.

    He shoved her off and walked away.

    Confusion.