A Wreckage At The Top Of The Atlantic

The moon shoots huge columns of light across the dimly lit dorm room directly into the eyes of her and he is trying hard to get a look into them. They are lying side by side on his full size bed, naked and panting, heads almost touching. These are the warm electric minutes before sunrise in Richmond. He wants her to look into his eyes too, to stare right back at him, but her eyes glaze over him as if she's looking through him. An illegal air conditioner keeps the two cool in an attic single in Atlantic House.

"So...you're not going to talk to me?" He asks.

"Mmmm...nope" She giggles.

"Fine then, I'm stealing my pillow back."

"Oh no you're not," the girl says, "you're going to have to fight for it."

"Oh God," he says. "Now you've asked for it."

They both fumble around in bed trying to knock each other off, both laughing and panting.

"I win!" She jubilantly exclaims.

"Yeah....have your pillow. I have my blanket." He says as he pulls the blanket away from her and continues to stare at her eyes.

"You don't look too good," he says. "You have a bruise on your chin."

"I'm fine."

It takes five minutes for him to say, "Why are things different between us? Why can't we go back to being.....you know?" He lets go of the blanket and rubs his eyes.

"For Christ's sake," she says irritably. "You are such an asshole." She rolls over and stares across the room. "I knew I shouldn't have come here."

"I was wrong. What can I say? You know it won't happen again." He strokes the back of her head, but she doesn't turn. "Do you still want me?" He asks. "You don't have to answer me...I guess," He...