Aftermath

She looked into that dark void that kept eating out her heart. She had never felt so helpless before. The River Cam churned dark-green, but really the water just stayed still. She had no idea where Zhimo had gone when he punted( the Anchor was probably not there in the 1920s) or if he was with anyone. Good for her that she never felt strongly about punting the way the poet did. Gently he left the River Cam, just like he softly came.

It was a nice poem after all. And they had met in Cambridge, Xu and Lin. She had met him the summer before. It was so revolutionarily deconstructive that a few days blew her mind off. It was great when she saw the Eiffel Tower up close. The sun was melting down Champs Élysées and asian women were busy quequing up for brand name handbags. The sun rose and set. She lied on his legs on a bench in the park. It felt like they had been lying like that forever.

They were talking about the youth movement in the 1960s in class today. She saved that up, wanting to tell him about it. She wished it wasn't as finished as it appeared. The professor mentioned the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones. The names started jumping up and down in her head. She decided that she should watch Mrs Robinson some time. She wished she could find someone to watch it with quietly.

She was waiting.