Pull It Up or Pull It Down?

Ten days later and I am still indifferent to Carlos.  In fact I am indifferent to everyone and -thing except:  one hopelessly unrealistic hope.  For ever since my sweet, quickening encounter with the beautiful boy Tyler, when he so innocently and sincerely asked, did I mind?  (Did I mind if he and his friends smoked dope on my time?)  I can think of nothing else!  Every three seconds he’s back, the soul of concern, of sweetness, light, peace, joy and hope, swaying politely in front of me, Blunt in hand.

[This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

I can not concentrate.   I can not eat or sleep, I’m so fixated on that tool belt that seems to be wearing him more than he’s wearing it.  In my mind it’s slowly sliding off of him, and I can’t decide which I want more:  to pull it up or down.

Tyler, Tyler, Tyler! If anything else matters, I don’t care.  Or remember.

(Click here to read the next episode.