2369 | green green grass |

All the girls on the train were chirping in French and the prettiest
one -- olive skin and deep, dark eyes and lips that should be so thick
-- split earbuds with her not-so-good looking friend. She held her
fists out and bounced a bit in her seat, a subway dance. She said
"bon" a lot, bumped knuckles with an amis, and counted her friends,
"Un, deux, trois," and it was difficult to remeber how much it sucked
to be a teenager.