Its blood, juices, whatever you want to call them, came out, even as the fish struggled harder for a moment beginning to still. Liquid, clear-ish red,...hit the rock as his knife began moving down the length of the sacrifice's body, following the ribs. It had been years since he had filleted a fish, but Tom's hands were steady. One filet now off, he turned the fish over, repeating the process. The rock under his hands warmed, as if nourished by the blood. So, too, the tree before him glowed."In. I'm in love as well." He hugged me."What was that for?" I asked."For making me get up to talk to her. No homo by the way." We both hugged again (no homo) and left for home.The next day, it was so hard to focus on my exam. I finished later than it should have taken me. As soon as I was finished, I quickley called Kiera and asked her out. I picked her up and we went out to a restaurant and sat in the corner. We talked about anything and everything. It turns out she is into type theory like I. More

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