Now, someone dance with me. Summer here, kids. Gliding, walking, pavement lines. The whole scene, so strange to be lit from below as the sun sets behind the trees, behind the cars, behind you, and I, and Pennsylvania. This summer, last summer, next summer. All the same, really, just the faces and lips are different. Where was I a year ago? Right here. Right now. Just not with you. This room is nothing like how I felt an hour ago. Here, I'm stifled. Outside, it was summer. I was immortal.