» By now his head is on her shoulder and his feet up on the door, knees bent, dangling over. He is drinking beer and sharing with her, feeding her potato chips and sleepily singing on her shoulder.
«You know» he is saying, «I used to raise hell with women. Petting and all that stuff. I´ve been out with some sluts, and ask any girl in Flushing about my reputation and she´ll tell you …»
«So, now what?» the girl is asking, feeling her eyes straight on the road and on the tunnel of light carving out of the dark ahead as they go.»
Sylvia Plath 18 eller 19 år gammel, dagbøker