delaware 2:3

When Jack and I got back from a matinee movie, it was dark, and Jill was dressed like a prostitute. I'd never seen those clothes before. I wondered where she'd stolen them. Can I go out? she said. She had never asked my permission before, never had cause. That was not my function, but then my function, as such, had expired the day we met, only no new functions had been defined. I didn't feel right either way. Where? I said, stalling. Out, she said, with the guy from 216. No, I said, and what about your face. She blushed and turned away. Sorry, I said. I didn't mean to embarrass her, but an almost fatherly resolve was forming against the premature dating project. He's okay, she said. Let's go meet him, I said, he can come with us for ice cream. We don't want any shitty ice cream, she said. Take it or leave it, and don't swear at me. I almost added Young Lady, but clipped myself. Fuck you, she said, but she went out the door, so I followed as chaperone, a strange new addition to my ad hoc responsibilities for these children who did not belong to me.

move on...