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It must have been January because it was still Christmas break, we had to lie our way onto the closed campus, "we're just checking our mail." Hide the car behind the library and walk back the long way to the dorm. His side of the roof was the side away from the parking lot and toward the woods. Security would not see us. We sat on the slant with our feet in the eavestrough and smoked and were shocked by the snow, like we are always shocked every few years when it happens, a surprise every time.

Do you want to go to that damn fucking gallery opening with me, he wanted to know. I said I did not want to go at all, but I would go, since he had to. We were quiet then. His smoke was white from the moon, the snow was white from the moon. He pulled off a rotten shingle and threw it like a sorry flappy frisbee. I told him Quit it but he said he only had to throw one of them, he was done. He said you are the best girl I never slept with, and he was right.