September 22, 2017:

Multiple trips to the laundry room. Dryers unavailable, dryers broken down. The repair crew arrives in the nick of time. "Let's go home and bake a little," says a girl you know. You're joined by friends as you walk across the complex.

September 21, 2017:

He fucked her twice and she blew him twice, over about two hours, on a leather couch in the empty top floor lounge of a high-rise dormitory on a major university campus. He was very much in love.

He wanted to get back together. She didn't. She put up with it from drift, passivity, nothing better on the horizon. She later told me, and him, that she was waiting for someone new to come along.

They broke up, they got back together, they broke up, they got back together, he hurt her, she hurt him, he loved her for twenty years, she was already over him before those two hours in the dormitory lounge which she later told me, and him, that she did not remember.

September 20, 2017:

"Owwww!", she says, seated on the stairs outside her front door. "Why do boys want to squeeze so hard?"