I’d love to keep poking through her phone, but we’re somewhere south of Brooklyn and somehow managing to hit every pothole to this mystery destination. Skipping a bra had put my jiggle physics into full effect, and each shock to the suspension reminds me just how connected the nerves in my tits were to my crotch. God, why aren’t there more girls on motorcycles?

It was strange to think how real this all feels and how seriously distracting it all is. Come to think of it…