Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never Read Online Free PDF

pause to remove my heels. My feet hurt either way, so I might as well not even bother to wear them. The EMTs put bandages on me anyway, so I figure I won't be completely unprotected against the grimy streets.
    “Nope,” I say as I examine my mangled shoes. The heel on one is broken and the other has a bit of blood on it. I feel sick. “I'm in the mood for walking anyway,” I say as I turn back and jog over to the garbage can. I shove the shoes inside, next to an empty bottle of liquor and a half eaten sandwich. Ty doesn't say anything, but he does smile.
    “So,” he continues as I catch back up to him and fall into an easy stride. Neither of us seems to be in any hurry to get where we're going. It's all about the journey. “Tell me about yourself. Where do you come from? What do you do? What is it that made you want to fight back like that?” The pavement is cold against my bare toes, but in a good way, a way that makes me feel more awake. I like it. I stare down at them for a moment before answering. The red nail polish still looks good and isn't too chipped, despite my scuffle at the convenience store.
    “What made you want to fight back?” I counter, unsure of how to answer his questions. Despite what he may think, they're all difficult ones for me, and I don't have any real answers to them. I look up at Ty's face, at the piercings in his nose and lip and eyebrows. The streetlights above them catch on the metal and make them shimmer like diamonds. He looks down at me, and I can see that he doesn't know either.
    “I'm sorry for what I said to you,” he tells me, and I feel tears sting my eyes. I don't know why, but suddenly, they're just there. I look away and pretend that the cold is getting to me by tucking my hands under my armpits. “I'm the last person that should be judging anyone else.”
    “Second to last,” I say, and dash my tears away before throwing a smile back at him. “And I'm sorry for calling you a whore.” He grimaces and the smile falls from his face for a moment. Ty bites his lip and spins the ring back and forth with his tongue.
    “That's okay,” he says, and before I can argue, he explains himself. “Because I am one. Or I was.” I shake my head as we pause at the street corner and wait for the light to change. There are no cars, but we wait anyway.
    “I sleep around a lot, too,” I admit, and have no idea why I'm spilling my guts to this guy. Maybe it's because he reminds me so much of myself. I reach into my coat and find the lighter and the box of cigarettes. I light up again and pass one to Ty. He takes it in his fingers but doesn't put it to his mouth.
    “No, not like that,” he says as I tuck the lighter away, and we start across the street. “I worked as a whore.” Ty puts the cigarette between his lips but doesn't take a drag. It hangs limply from his frown, and I can see in his eyes that he's tortured by whatever it is that he's done. He looks as sick as I feel. “And not a very good one,” he tells me as we pass by brick apartment buildings that were once historic treasures but now just appear rundown. Very few windows glow with light. “For a couple hundred bucks, I would've given you what you wanted.” Ty inhales and holds the smoke in his lungs for a long time before he exhales in a cloud of white. “Or I would've. I don't do that anymore.”
    I don't say anything to that. I don't know what to say. On one hand, I'm disgusted with him. I think things like, How could he sell his body like that? and Doesn't he have any shame or dignity?, but then I realize that we're just the same, me and him. I may not have ever taken money for sex, but I abuse it just the same.
    “I have six sisters which is just as shitty as it sounds,” I say randomly, and Ty finally smiles again. He has a really nice smile. It lights up the dark almost as well as the streetlamps above us. “My mother is, like Lacey said, a belly dancer. She does shows during the farmers' market and