He was watching for the park bench even though he didn’t expect to see anything. He saw a child bouncing a ball from a sitting position on the bench... He approached and saw a shoelace tying a folded piece of paper onto the bench. That was unusual. He couldn’t help but be drawn to it. He bent to read the sentence on the cover. ‘To the friend who wrote the next verse of my poem.’ It wasn’t possible that the author of the poem had indeed returned and had even written back to him? The boy on the. What?* Oh, do I have to just tell you?Yes.* Men! Down there. Between my legs. It makes me hot.A hug?* Oh, yeah. Just thinking about it now does too.Oh. Well hey.* Anyway, I was telling you about last night. So I was thinking about you hugging me, and then I went to sleep.Just like that?* Well no. I read a book for a bit, to distract myself, you know.Why?* Well, because I didn't want to, you know. Do that.Why not?* I told you already. It makes me feel guilty.It shouldn't. And.* Well, the book. More

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