my knee touching yours and all i could do was stare at the ground, my hands...what to do with my hands...and i feel like it was almost like i was washing them off, trying to rid myself of something...cleansing the anger, the sorrow, the hurt...my wanting to slap you so hard across your face, scream at you...but to what end? and instead i just sat there for a while, staring out the window at the low, flat rooftops of downtown, at the tornado sirens, the towers...all those towers downtown and i remembered the woman who was ready to jump last spring and i wondered what it takes to make that kind of decision...and finally i just said that i guessed that there wasn't much left to do now, that i should leave...and you said that it wasn't over, it wasn't over, it wasn't over...