..no." I didn't know what to say to this. Do I get laid a lot...alittle...do I joke about 'getting laid.' But who did I meet? Was itme? My normal...self. My male self?I didn't know what to say. I wanted to ask her where I went. That's when I saw the cigarettes on the end of the counter. There wasthat flash of recognition again, like when I'd heard my mom's voice onthe answering machine and when Lisa hugged me. How did I even know hername. And I saw those cigarettes and knew that's what. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking away as if she was suddenly shy. “I guess it’s just been a long night.”“Are you upset about breaking up with your boyfriend?” I asked her.She looked back up at me and shrugged. “Not really. It wasn’t anything serious. I just…” she trailed off and looked away again.I put a hand under her chin and lifted her head up, she didn’t resist. “It’s okay, you can tell me,” I said, looking into her eyes.“Tell you? How? It’s personal, and I don’t even know your name,” she. More

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