William thinks in analogue.

"What?"

"I like it when a woman say's 'moreover'."

"Love cannot be served unless it is surrounded by tons and tons or appetizers, and then we still won't quite dig into it."

"I'm sorry?"

"Listen. I just have to have poetry. I have to watch passion filled movies with tragic endings. It is the drama that I personally love. I don't want the commitment of love. The finality of it. Even if it keeps me in a state of bliss; even if I am happy beyond measure. Even if I am married to ecstasy and we take our honeymoon in joy. For some reason that isn't entertaining enough for me. Why? Why is that?"

"She is analogue."

"Yeah. She's emotionally minimal. She doesn't understand what the fuss is about. She doesn't have time for the theatrics."

"What are you doin'?"

"What?"

"Are you losing it?"

"I don't know."

"Right."

"I feel like I've studied passion, or I've studied romance. It's like I have studied an entire culture of physical expression through it's tools such as music, art, literature and movies and I have idolized it. Just looked at it. Friended it on Facebook. But she takes it and just allows it to unlock her. She dives in and doesn't need to question it."

"What?"

"Huh?"

"What are you fretting?"

"Who the fuck uses fretting?"

"It is being used right here."

"She's in it. Close to the heartbeat, near the silence, and well, I haven't gotten in. Well I have, but I get out to talk about how I've gotten in."

"OK."

"Just talking about it here does it again."