[Setting: apt. stairs ]

January 18, 1993

Towards the evening Lennon always went outside. Because Felicity was always outside. She described being indoors to him as an awkward paradox of delusional insights, which meant being insanely bored out of one's wits.

He let Felicity banter on and on about his name that evening.

She playfully kept punching his shoulder every time she found something that he had said funny prior to his name. Lennon would've never had guessed that she could have had a possibility of being a professional boxer in disguise, if she never had jabbed him in the first place. That evening she looked as if the laughter that she had surfaced into the air had somewhat crippled her into a laughing mess.

Her smile some-what crippled Lennon in a weird way as well; dimples would began to surface on her flushed cheeks like bread rising in the oven. He wondered for a second or two how it would feel like to kiss her on the cheek. Not that he wanted to but he just wondered how such an aftermath would transpire in the following seconds. It wasn't that he had never kissed a girl before either, he had indeed planted his lips on one female, aside from his mother, the only female being May Thompson who was just a really close friend back in Blue Ridge, Georgia.

It was more of a pressurized kiss rather than it was a real one. But none the less he had counted it as a kiss, though it had none of the factors of a real one.

His trail of thought vanquished as soon as Felicity had said his name;

"Lennon."

He watched as her foot repeatedly stepped on the tiny twig that was wedged in between the rigid crusts of a crack on the side of the street.

"Do you like your name?"

Lennon wondered. And he tried pushing the soft voice of his mother to the deepest nether of his brain.

But it didn't work, and her almost melodious voice waded in his ears the words he wished he didn't hate.

"Your father named you."

"Can't say I do."
He had finally said.

"Why?"
She followed up.

"Just cause."