Uh-huh…

"I accidentally touched my head and noticed that I had been bleeding, for how long I didn’t know. What was this, I thought, that struck me?? What kind of weapons have they got?? The softest bullet ever shot…"
-The Flaming Lips, "The spark that bled."

"I saw you; and him, walking in the rain. You were holding hands, and I’ll never be the same."
-Oran "Juice" Jones, "The Rain."

The cook. Or chef. Whatever he was. The waiter. The redhead with the goatee and flat top. The guy from New York.

All those old boyfriends who "just happened" to be visiting the island, although I wasn’t allowed to see or meet any of them. The conch. The DJ. The guy that worked the front desk at the motel who got so pissed whenever I answered the phone.

The guy who ___never wore underwear for, when they went for "walks," underneath shorts that required them. The guys from his past. Guys in his present. The guy from the boat. The guy he went to "watch TV" with, from Ohio.

And let’s not, shall we, forget the guy from Boston.

I think he thought I believed him. I did at first. I wanted to so badly.

Each discovered disappointment ripped into the last, tearing the soft matter of my brain and heart. Oh, God; the blood.