Valentine seemed very much the same way and I wanted to know why. I wanted to know everything."You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Valent...ne told me. He stroked my stomach with his left hand, half lying on the bed with his head propped up with the right."Julia's more beautiful then me," I replied seriously. "And Sylvia, and Wendy, and a hundred girls at my school..." I sighed."No," Valentine assured me, his voice tender and sincere. "They're not." He kissed me on the lips and. Every fact of it occurred. What makes the story a fiction is my purposeful exclusion of many other, extraneous experiences that shaped my life at the time. They are no more or less important than the experiences I have included in the story, I simply have chosen to omit them because they cling only to the periphery of my memory. I have chosen to tell the story in vivid detail because the details are important to me. They are what form the substance of my memories. The story is about the summer. More

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