The guy on my right zips up and when he is finished at the sinks, he leaves. I look over at the guy on my left, into his face. He's a cute guy maybe ...0 years younger than me. He has short grey/white hair and beard. He looks at me and grins and winks. Fuck, he had my attention before but doubly so now. I reach over with my left hand to latch onto his erection but I realize that my hands are cold. There are guys in the stalls so I whisper "better not, my hand is cold." He grins and winks and his. An eight by ten pencil sketch had been taped to that particular page ofJane's scrapbook. The mood of the piece was eerily surreal, in largepart due its perspective and the charcoal- pencil medium. The subjectwas obviously a much younger Jane Thompson, or at least, her demonictwin sister. Her face filled most of the page, her flashing eyes fixedon the observers', as if she were looming over him or her from thepage. The wickedly grinning visage had a vampire's sharp fangs and adevil's horns. More

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