The two of us were sitting around, drinking beer after Fran decided not to beat the crap out of me. We were talking about the "Greg" incident.
"He had it coming."
"I don't know..."
"You weren't the one feeling like Ned Beatty in 'Deliverance'."
"Still..."
"Oh, come on. If I tried to stick my hand up your skirt, if you ever wore one..."
"Very funny."
"What would you do?"
"That's easy. I'd break your face."
"Exactly."
Fran finished her beer and got us two more, the recycle can holding our twelve empties. I took mine and opened a bag of chips. Fran grabbed a handful and started munching.
"He told me that he was drunk."
"That's why I didn't really hurt him, but that's not the point."
"What is?"
"Here we are getting a pretty good buzz and no matter how much either one of us wants to, we're not going to force ourselves on the other, right?"
"You want to force yourself on me?"
"In your dreams."
"My nightmares."
"What I'm saying is, you don't do that to people you care about."
Then it hit me.
I stood up.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I need some air."
I suddenly felt very confused. A walk would clarify my thoughts.
"You want me to go with you?"
"No, I'll be okay. Thanks."
I walked out the door, breathing in the cold, fresh air. 
