Excerpt:
"There's food too. Quaint china is sprawled across the blanket where we sit. Each saucer has fruit or cheese - something I enjoy eating, and won't feel guilty about. Maybe it's scandalous. Maybe we're sharing Tito's and sprite out the thermos I bring to school everyday.
After dreaming of that all night, I woke up assuming I should wash the vodka out before making my morning coffee. Somehow, I'd convinced myself that we'd actually had a night picnic and not just fantasied about it. I snapped out of it once I reached the sink, but it still worries me. What if I do that all the time, and don't snap out of it. Have I actually just imagined thighs, That's terrifying."
