The steel beams of the bridge understructure a mere 5 feet above it. A car roared and then in the silence he could hear the coo of doves. The shelf was splattered with bird shit. An old torn mattress lay on the shelf with a ratty sleeping bag piled at its foot. The rush of traffic, the smell of diesel exhaust and oil, mixed with his headache, gave everything he saw an unreal tint.The brambles below the shelf were thick with discarded beer cans. He worked his way awkwardly the rest of the way down to the stream. It all looked familiar from when he'd approached in the canoe, in the dimness under the bridge he recognized where he'd splashed and struggled.The path worked along the creek. He guessed it was kept clear by fishermen. Dart crackled and thrashed through the reeds, threatening to tangle the flexi-leash. He reeled her in with annoyance. After a few yards the path ended by the stream. He felt faint, overcome by the memory of her standing there, one hand before her sex, the other. School, I hated the place, ever since Ben got a new girlfriend. Not like we would continue our secret sex relationship. I knew it would end, but after just a week in a half? Okay, he was right. It did seem fishy that he came to get me out of class every day. But I can’t help but miss it. Then he had to go out and get himself a girlfriend just so people wouldn’t think he was gay. I think that’s the thing that hurt most of all.I dragged myself from class to class. I quit band because it was so awkward between us. I said I just wanted homeroom, and more time for lunch. The real reason was him. I never went to the locker room anymore. My days just changed. All for a fling? Damn I felt stupid.On my way to third period, I was still kicking myself. Ben ended it about three weeks ago, and I was still in my depressed stage. We didn’t date or anything, but I did feel some connection other then sex. I was too wrapped up with my thoughts; I didn’t even notice I was on the ground with my books.
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