"I look at everyone else and all I can do is hate them because they know where they are in their heads. They don't hate themselves for every minute of...their lives. They don't do THIS to themselves." He pulled up the sleeve on his right arm, up to the elbow. Exposing scars, old and new, that criss-crossed his upper arm. A couple were still scabbed with dried blood; they looked almost brand new."Oh Andy," I said, putting my arm around his shoulder and drawing him to me."It's not right!" he almost. I doubted that Sarah had either. I ordered us burgers and chips, and black coffee to help us stay awake. The Little Chef was almost empty. We sat well back, away from the windows. The only waiter was a tall dreamy looking lad in his late teens. He seemed pleased to have customers, and I could tell that he thought Sarah, in her new dress, wig, and sunglasses, was rather glam. Pity, I didn't want anyone paying attention to her. Too late. He was trying to make conversation, and Sarah responded. More

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