In jeans beside the bare legs of her friendsshe ignores the tiny mirrors of icethat float in her second glass of watersince her conversation with him began.“I think that all people want to be good.
”She clarifies. “To see themselves as good.”He nods from the weight of understandingas his friends flirt with her friends between drinks.
(Though the bar has heard this spoken beforethe boy agrees in his soul as you shouldwhen you first hear the voice of your echo.)And tonight the world seems designed for them.
Their corner of the table conspires inthe dim lights where they collide. In this worldthat rewards our designated drivers.