“Jerome shrugged. “We’re back to the part where I don’t give a fuck.”

“Don’t you want it?” I ask.“That depends on why you’re giving it tome.”I shrug. “Sometimes, as we’re stumblingalong in the dark, we hit something good.”

“I don’t give a fuck about whatever fucking rules you have. That was you that you just gave me. I wanted it, you gave it, I took it and I’m not fucking giving it back.”

“Please don’t get sentimental,” said Jerome. “It’s nauseating.”

“Things are going so well. We’re volleying words back and forth. Everything she says, I have something I can say back. We’re sparking, and part of me just wants to sit back and watch. We’re clicking. Not because a part of me is fitting into a part of her. But because our words are clicking into each other to form sentences and our sentences are clicking into each other to form dialogue and our dialogue is clicking together to form this scene from this ongoing movie that’s as comfortable as it is unrehearsed.”

“Extinction, that’s where it’s going, that’s where we’re headed. And we’re going that way because we’re all so fucking afraid of it. We’re so afraid of dying off that we’re setting ourselves up for exactly that. Keeping away from each other, rarely making eye contact with those we don’t already know. Not helping when folks need help. Avoiding confrontation and staying away when we see anything which might instill fear. Doing our best to stay out of trouble, while in effect creating more trouble.”