My arms are killing me. I didn't know words could be so heavy.

Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.

When finally she finished and stood herself up, he put his arm around her, best-buddy style, and they walked on. There was no request for a kiss. Nothing like that. You can love Rudy for that, if you like.

We're silent now, both waiting, till I remind myself that I'm the older one and should therefore initiate conversation. But I don't. I don't want to waste this girl with idle chitchat. She's beautiful.

When a person's last response was Saumensch or Saukerl or Arschloch, you knew you had them beaten.

Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly chest?

It's funny, don't you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.