Atop flat rocks, adorned in a blue blanket similar to the unfamiliar sky hanging over head, two bodies rest long into the night. Just as feet walked the path in sync, hearts beat together against ribs and breastbones alike. Two hands, ten fingers, twisted into a puzzle-like shape, two bodies layered on each other, looking like one. Everything moves together. And the silence is okay because still so much can be heard through it.

At times I want to break pens over my head, just so I can seem strong.

Then I'll run around with ink all over my head, and I'll be Crazy Inkhead (gimme some canday!).

So he says, he says:

It makes me happy that Hans will be happier about being somewhere new come 15 days from now. It makes me happy that he'll probably feel like California is the place for him to be, and that Evanston really wasn't the place for him at all. So it makes me sad that things will probably change. And it makes me sad that I won't see him nearly as often as I have the past 5 months. It makes me sad that he'll be so far away. And it makes me sad because I love him, because he has become one of the best people in my life. I'm not sure it's even possible to tell anyone how it's so impossible to be anything negative around him. I did promise to visit him at least once this year. It just feels bad to know that he's leaving. Just an empty, hollow, something's missing feeling that often accompanies loss. Have I ever told you that you were beautiful, Hans?