we were crossing the bridge, coming from a free concert a couple blocks away at the boardwalk.
this girl, in the frame of my nineteen year olds perception, couldn't say that, nothing so hokey could make her sad. she was the artist with amazing talent, beauty and a sodden drunk, blonde, nihilistic 27 year old biker boyfriend. it couldn't add up.
she was silent as the two of us stopped midway across the bridge, at one of the half circle shaped breaks in the railing, waiting for mari and billy.
she seemed on the verge of launching into an half-hearted explanation when the two of them rejoined us. i must have said something to get the last word in as she stifled whatever she was about to say, something to convey some of the weight of what she'd said, to her and to mari and billy. i'm sure it did nothing of the sort, though.
"yeah, that song is pretty sad."