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but: the twelfth grade isn't so bad, everybody. they hand out cookies and free hugs. today is very cold. the kind of cold you walk through while trying to make yourself as small and compact as possible, almost to the extent that you turn inside-out. i am walking on the sidewalk to the car in a compact ball thinking this: it is so cold out here. then i hear game-man come from behind me and i think: ohno ohno. he is wearing a warm sweatshirt that says "john: drum captain." we have a friendly conversation in which i discover the little man that is still coiled inside of him. everything he says involves nakedness. except the parts that involve katelyn. and the parts where he reeks of arrogance. my hands are wringing nervously in my coat pockets around yellowed peppermints from the last time i wore my coat. they smell like ghosts and wipe minty appleseed smells on my insides when i eat them. the sidewalk then sharply parts our ways and i sit in my frozen cubicle car thinking, while white fog comes from my mouth, that the both of us are impulsively conciliatory, whether we like that or not. then i turned the heater on and warmed with thoughts of whales and the malaga orange tree hammocks.
by The JavaScript Source
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