… he said； his hands trembling with nervous
again。
…How so？ … Vanessa asked。 … A university with a decent program deliteratura means you have
to kill。
…Yeah； but I speak of dombrio； My poems are even 。。。 … Dan stopped。 The poems were his
personal； were what they were。 And it seemed weird to have a lot of them an official
admission in any of Columbia； or Brown； or Vassar； as if his soul desnudando and a plete
stranger could not have read the works of Goethe； Sartre and Camus and not understand your
references oblique to them。
…Did you know that you can even try to publish their stuff？ … Vanessa suggested。 …That would
leave the staff of the university's admission pletely convinced about you。
Dan put the cigarette end of empty cigarette in a can of Coca…Cola。
…Yeah； okay … he said。 He liked to write； but no way is ready to send your stuff to a
publisher。 Not even find your voice yet。 He knew that。 Each new poem that I wrote seemed
different from the older。
Vanessa is seated again。
…What？ I'm talking sério。Você should do that。
Dan adunfou further in blankets。
…Whatever … he muttered without enthusiasm。 I was not ready for sex and not estavapronto to
be published。 Now she felt even more inadequate。
Vanessa knew that when I was back Horadada。 She breathed fund and channeled his inner
kitten； one that just came out of his corner in hot heater when Dan needed a strong kiss on
his cute face。
She deslizou covered under the breast and kissed him。
…One more week and we can spend all the time so the holidays … she muttered。
Unlike most members of the class at Constance Billard and Riverside Prep； or Vanessa or