Miles jogged off, leaving her alone in the large and quiet room. Aimee stood still, waiting for her mind and heart to go back to normal, return to how she felt a week ago before seeing Miles again.
But they didn’t. Or wouldn’t. She put both hands over her pounding heart, exhaled, and sank into a chair. Nut-burgers. Now what?
What's a slut?" I ask him.
"A girl who puts out too easily."
"Puts out what?" I imagine Greer putting out dinner and don't understand what Iwan wouldn't like about that.
"Puts out, you know..." His face, already beet red from our run, turns a darker scarlet. "Sex."
I wonder where Greer puts the sex out.
But maybe that isn't possible. Maybe the mind of the majority is always the healthy mind, simply by virtue of its numbers. Maybe it's the definition of madness to believe I'm right and everyone else if wrong, to find my thoughts rational and reasonable when almost the entire world finds them damaged and flawed.