Outside the Gymnasium

Betty’s past the baby-food years, showing up to life with a new love and something to prove. We found each other through Fritz, and the hours since have been good. When my thoughts drift to her I always end up in the same places: some spectacularly dumb comment I had coming, freezing carnival nights outside the gymnasium, and those video evenings at the apartment of whoever it was we all called Big Mouth.

Happy birthday, Bettylein. The orgy-adjacent party tomorrow has my full support. The photo ended up sideways somehow—I honestly have no idea how that happened.