“
The more girls a boy has, the better. He has a bright look, having reaped fruits, blooming. He stalks around, sure-shouldered, and you have the feeling he’s got more in him, a fatter heart, more stories to tell. For a girl, with each boy it’s as though a petal gets plucked each time.
Then you start to get tired. You begin to feel diluted, like watered-down stew.
In Which While I’m Alive I’ll Make Tiny Changes To Earth