“Forty seven,” said the glamorous presenter. “Seventeen and finally… Twenty five.” “Holy fuck!!! Maz, MAZ? Did you hear that??? Oh my fuc...ing god, oh my god, oh my god!” CG brought her hands up to her face, simultaneously putting a powdery handprint on either cheek and dropping both the phone and the bowl of beaten eggs. Her cell landed briefly in the sticky liquid as it fell to the tiled floor, where both bowl and gadget broke into pieces in a yellow, sticky, eggy puddle. “CG? What’s going. There was Worries-About-Everything Girl; there was Doesn't-Like-Anyone Girl and Tall Girl, Black-Haired Girl and Cool Shoes Girl. They were the constant entertainment in his otherwise boring life; the people he watched like others might watch a hamster in a cage. They were so happy with their lives, so content just to fit in where they'd been placed at birth. He envied them. He wished he had never glimpsed the hint of something better, so that he'd never know what he was missing. No, the Girls. More

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