Flingin

It’s Spring Fling today - an all-day campus concert with some up-and-coming music acts. We’ll be out there, in the rain if we have to, we're determined and somewhat waterproof. We went out earlier, doing a scan for friends to find seats and place stuff to hold our spot. What, up until now, have been notes of preparation for summer move-out, will become a symphony tomorrow - after my last final - I’ll be a sophomore then, I suppose. Peter has to check an experiment he’s working on. He hugs me and heads out. “He’s so hot,” Anna observes, “he makes me think about sex, and you know what - YES!” “You can have him," I say, "he’s too tall - and besides - he’s friending-down, with me.” I admit. “I like him,” Lisa says, “he doesn’t complain or disapprove of things.” “He’s the modern man,” Anna says, dreamily. “And he’s REALLY good at kissing games.” I confide, grinning like a creepy boy, to make them jealous. They all made various noises that piggybacked and incorporated into one coherent gagging sound.