"Come in Mark," Cindy yelled, when I knocked on the door. "We're in thekitchen."I walked back to the kitchen and saw Cindy and Mrs. Meyer sitting atth... table with photos spread over the top of it."What are you looking at?" I asked."Your pictures. God Mark, I'm so jealous. You're beautiful," Cindygushed."Come on Cindy, I'm not that pretty." Oh but you are, look."I looked at the pictures Mrs. Meyer had taken of me and for some reasonthey looked different on paper. I still had a hard time. I had had enough cash to take a flight nearly anywhere, preferably some third world little South American shit hole, where my money could have lasted me years. But what do you want from me? I was two months shy of my nineteenth birthday, and up to that point the farthest I had ever traveled had been two hours away by car, to see fucking Motorhead play when I was seventeen. I’m being completely honest when I say, I had zero fucking clue what I was doing, and this was just where I wound up, and. More

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