..."There’s really no way I can explain it to her without *still* sounding like scum," I complained to Sinter. "The 'sympathy shack-up' doesn’t score many points," he agreed. *
I had an absurd desire to go down to her and make sure she was all right, and stay with her until dawn. I also had a fierce wish to bludgeon the two frat boys to death with a shovel.
College isn't half as much fun as they told us it was going to be." "It's not one-hundredth as much fun.
And I got out of there without punching anyone, kicking anyone, or breaking down in tears. Some days the small victories are all you achieve.
I've given her signs! I've given her plenty of signs. What does she want me to do? Slap him across the face with my glove, and challenge him to pistols at dawn?
