Why cry? He didn’t feel sad, he felt angry… right? If the girl held any concern, not much showed. She placed a hand on his knee but that was it. �...�Who’s Anahid?’ she asked. ‘I don’t know. He— he wanted me to f-find him… or her ‘ The hand clamped tighter still. Lower down, a second had begun to throttle his lungs of breath. The girl had to be doing this, he realized. Some spell. Why else would he cry over the person who put him in this mess. ‘But I’m stuck here now.’ ‘Then we should both try to. It seemed as if one's life-flame waxed very small and sought to hide as deep within oneself as possible, away from the mechanical insanity that reigned around it.At such moments he would fix on a memory of home. It was always the same memory; he was looking down from the unnamed hill to the south of the village. Below him he could make out the Church and the little row of cottages that fronted the lych-gate. He could see the course of the river making its lazy meanders through the valley bottom. I washed my face, listening to the shouting and laughing around me as theother girls talked to each other through the partitions. They all seemedso happy and full of themselves. I thought that places like this werefull of sad children, trying to get over not having parents, but judgingby what I was hearing, I was the only one having problems.After washing and cleaning my teeth, I looked at the nightdress with adistinct feeling of nausea and put the green thing over my head. The onlygood thing. I, on the other hand, was always very shy around girls. When I turned nineteen, I was still a virgin. Sometimes, it bothered me, and I really wanted to experience the joy of sex that the guys were always talking about. When they'd get into the locker-room talk, I'd just shrug my shoulders and smile, pretending that I knew what they were talking about. Once, when I was pressed on the topic, I just smiled and said that a gentleman never discussed details.But truth be known, my curiosity.
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