A book floated down the Amper River. A boy jumped in, caught up to it, and held it in his right hand. He grinned. He stood waist-deep in the icy, Decemberish water. “How about a kiss, Saumensch?” he said.

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

We both laugh and run and the moment is so thick around me that i feel like dropping into it to let it carry me.

My own eyes try to sleep, but they don't. They stay wide awake as time snarls forward and silence drops down, like measured thought.

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.

It's my heart that is tired. A thirteen-year-old heart shouldn't feel like this.

I am hunted by humans.