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Holly says differently. If you were there, we need to know your version,” Mason said impatiently. “Yes, I was there,” I replied a bit defensively. He was acting like I was a damn criminal too. “Holly and Heather…ran into me earlier tonight and they were harassing me, which is nothing new.” I left out the part about how I threw gravel and dirt in Holly’s face. “We exchanged words, she got pissed – though she started it – and chased me through the back part of the grounds. I, um, hid for a little while because there was two of them and only one of me, but when I tried to leave, she snuck up on me and knocked me down. She had some kind of wooden board in her hand. She was about to hit me with it again when the guy stopped her. I’m assuming that’s him…I can’t be certain. He was wearing a clown outfit and had makeup on,” I explained. Mason still didn’t seem convinced. “Did you witness any other encounter between them?” he asked. “Yes,” I said, almost blushing. “Holly was mad because. They looked out on the dim path lights of the Boston Public Garden, and spied the shadows of lovers moving surreptitiously among the dark looming trees. As beautiful and posh as the setting might be, Nelson and Jessica outshone it to a degree that left witnesses and passersby alike in astonished awe. Yet, contrary to all appearances, their conversation had none of the grandeur that one might have expected of gods and goddesses come down from aethreal heights to slum for an evening among the feeble living. No, they did not casually discuss the fate of the earth, and all the poor cannonfodder upon it, and the fates of vanquished souls cast into an indifferent universe. This god and goddess still basked in the afterglow of their union, which consumed their thoughts, and commanded all their attention, and the devious playfulness of their repart?e threatened to devolve into the carnal; even here, in this elegant setting, they continually forgot themselves, and had to drag.
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