She takes off the last of her clothes, to expose her bare body to him. He remains calm through the smoky haze, and loud music. Her dark skin glistens with the quick shots of laser light that roughly penetrate the fog. She takes a drag from her half smoked cigarette all the while dancing to the music. He can't stop looking at her. He touches her breasts with an unsure but gentle massage. She crouches down as he waits in anticipation as to what she's going to do next. She drops her head in between his legs, letting her hair flow over and off of his crotch like a waterfall. As the song comes to an end, she gazes up at him and asks, "Are you all set?"

He answers her by handing her fifteen dollars. She thanks him and kisses him on the cheek. As he walks out from the back of the club, he hears his name.

"Artie!"

He wonders to himself what he would have done had Clarke not called his name. The haze in there is so thick he'd be lucky to look in a mirror and see anyone he knows. Of course the amount of booze he had consumed over the course of the evening probably didn't make matters any easier. He sits down with Clarke only to realize that Clarke had blazed up a doobie.

"Man, can't you take a break from that shit?" asks Artie.

"Hey, have you seen this one over here? The one they call 'Magnifique'? God, she's got some impressive tits."

They had been in the club for almost two hours now. Artie thinks to himself, how drunk does he think I am?

"Of course I saw her. I just got a lap dance from her."

"Well", Clarke says, "I guess I'm going to be waiting here for a while, man. She's got a list of men lined up longer than Schindler."

Artie stands up with his arms straight out by his sides, almost as if he were crucified. He tilts his head back, and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath and sits back down.

"Let's get out of here." says Artie with a disappointed look on his face.

"I can't!" shouts Clarke as he is approached by a beautiful blonde girl. She leans over and whispers something into Clarke's ear. Clarke looks up at Artie with a look on his face like he was a ten year old who just got his first bicycle. The blonde grabs Clarke by the tie and drags him away to the back.

Artie stands up again. He is growing angry with his friend. They had come to Harton City to relax and have fun. Artie wasn't having enough fun though. After the third strip club of the night, Artie was too drunk to remember why he agreed to come with his friend to the City. They had only been friends for 3 months anyways.

Artie begins to walk out of the club. He stops to pick up his jacket at the coat check. The girl takes his ticket, and retrieves his jacket for him.

"Didn't you come in here with a guy? The big muscular one?" asks the girl.

"Yeah," replies Artie, "but apparently he needs to spend more money in here than I do."

"Pity. He could come over here and get it for free."

Artie nods his head and makes a face almost as if to say, Yeah, well what else is new. He promptly exits onto the street. The sidewalks are bustling with people at 11:26pm. Artie grew even angrier at what the coat check girl had said to him. Why would she say that? Does she think that I actually give a fuck what she thinks about my friend? I didn't ask for her goddamn opinion on Clarke. I asked her for my coat.

Clarke stands out in a crowd. He's an extremely handsome man. He's got a chiseled body that women just need to touch. He's got a powerful jaw that demands attention when he talks. His clothes practically fall off because the women undress him in their mind so much.

Artie scrunches his face and claps his hands together hard in anger. Why do I even bother hanging out with this prick? Artie wonders, It's not like he even likes me. I must just be there to make him look even more appealing to the predators. Predators. That's what they are. All women are predators. They're always looking for the big kill. The one that will make them famous when they go back to their girlfriends, and talk about the 3 pound cock that she just inhaled vaginally. And they're always quick to pick on the weak ones, and the sick ones. That's Artie. He's weak not sick, unless confidence, or lack thereof, is a sickness. It should be a sickness. Then someone would actually look for a cure for it.

Artie turns into the mall just to get out of the cold for a few minutes. He walks into a clothing store and he spots a dark gray button down collared shirt. It's like the one he wore on his first and only date with Arya. He came here to stop thinking about Arya. He hasn't even seen her in almost a year now.

Arya was the one, or so Artie thought. They had worked with each other for a couple of years, and didn't even know it. Nobody really agreed with Artie. He kept telling people that she was an angel, and no one would agree. She was very plain looking. She usually kept her dirty blonde hair together in the back wrapped up in a ponytail. She never wore make-up. She didn't need it. She had a naturally beautiful face.

Artie collected his thoughts and moved on to the next store. Store after store he was beginning to realize that he was slowly coming off of his buzz. He knew that a pounding headache wasn't far away so he takes to the street again and battles the cold all the way back to his hotel. He sees a piece of the sidewalk that had been broken away from the rest of the sidewalk. It reminds Artie of Arya. There were pieces of sidewalk like that all over the place in Cambridge where he took her. They had such a great time that night. He took her on his favorite thing in the whole world. He took her on the Red Line, the T, Boston's public transportation system. He showed her all of his favorite stations, and each one had some significance to Artie. He started at Braintree where they got on. Being from the south shore of Massachusetts, Braintree is the easiest way to get to the red line. The next stop was Quincy Adams, where, Artie explained to her, his father used to get on the red line with him when they went to see the Boston Red Sox when Artie was just a boy. Next was the North Quincy stop, where you can see North Quincy High School from the station. This is where his most emotionally charged wrestling match was held when he wrestled in high school. From there they encountered the Charles/MGH stop. The stop is perched delicately above the Charles River, which is a spectacular view, as Artie showed Arya. The next stop was South Station, which is where the commuter line came into Boston. Artie told Arya of the days in high school when he and some friends took classes at MIT, and used the commuter rail on Saturdays to get into town. From there they arrived at Park Street. This is where the commons were, as well as a short beautiful walk away from the Fleet Center. He loved the Bruins he and loved that walk. The next stop was Kendall. This is the stop that brings them into MIT. He loved MIT so much. He took classes there while he was in high school, and his favorite part of MIT was the underground labyrinths that, if you could navigate them, could take you anywhere on the campus. He used to sit and write poetry for hours on end in the Court of Etrius, a small lobby type area in the underground maze that was shaped like a triangle. This was a great experience that was the inspiration for many of his poems. He then skipped a stop and went straight to the Harvard stop. He thought he would be romantic and charming so he took her to the outside table where Matt Damon kissed Minnie Driver in the movie Good Will Hunting. He then got back on the red line, and went back one stop to Central. He took her to his favorite coffee shop in the whole world, Starbucks - Central Square. They then went for their walk to the playground, which finalized their evening.

The Red Line is Artie's favorite way to travel. He loves the subway, especially around Boston because there are so many wonderful sights to take in. He misses the Red Line as much as he misses Arya.

As he makes his way into the elevator he thinks of Arya again. He reads the sign on the inside of the elevator car that describes the weight limits of the car. They are in French. Of course the words are in French. He is in Canada.

As Artie disembarks the elevator he stumbles a bit. His left foot hits the cylindrical ashtray can that they strategically placed outside the elevator door. He makes a mess. He always makes a mess of everything. This time he leaves it. He looks at the ash that is now flooding the doorway to the elevator, and he walks away. He rarely leaves a mess.

He opens the door to his room to find David and Meg already asleep in their bed. He hates seeing the happy couple snuggled together in their bed. Lousy cocksuckers, Artie thinks to himself. Artie disrobes and showers. He needs to get all of the nasty smoke off of him from the club. He pops 2 or 3 Tylenol and retreats to bed. He has to listen as David snores so loud it makes Artie want to cut David's throat. Eventually the snoring puts Artie to sleep.