Max?' he asked.'Yeah?''...What are you doing?''Shooting people.

Superorganism. A biologist coined that word for our great African ant colonies, claiming that consciousness and intelligence resided not in the individual ant but in the collective ant mind. The trail of red taillights stretching to the horizon as day broke around us made me think of that term. Order and purpose must reside somewhere other than within each vehicle. That morning I heard the hum, the respiration of the superorganism. It's a sound the new immigrant hears but not for long. By the time I learned to say "6-inch Number 7 on rye with Swiss hold the lettuce," the sound, too, was gone. It became part of the what the mind would label silence. You were subsumed into the superorganism.

A million possible endearments ran through his head. But he said, __elp.

You dance?___ think that might be overly optimistic,_ he said. __ do something. I__l try not to hurt you.

Isn__ he cute? That he thinks he has a sense of humour?

He__ never been shy, but he__ always been a little uncertain around girls. He just couldn__ believe they liked him.