I had an odd dream last night. We sat by the railroad tracks with our chins on our knees, ripping blades of grass from the soil and talking about nothing. You wouldn't look me in the eye, but that was okay -- both you and I were far too busy watching people run for the beach, with their hot pink floaties clutched under their arms and unlit cigarettes clasped between two skinny fingers. I woke up with the shivers, and it wasn't until the television was on that they finally went away.
On a brighter note, Perry Como makes me smile.