I tilted my chin up a fraction. "You can't f-force me to stay here. " I'd only agreed to come this far because I didn't want to stand out in the downpour, for one, and I had high hopes of finding a phone, for two. "That sounded more like a question than a statement," said Patch. "Then ans-s-swer it. " His rogue smile crept out. "It's hard to concentrate on answers with you looking like that. " I glanced down at Patch's black shirt, wet and clinging to my body. I brushed past him and shut the bathroom door between us.
I think that politics in most people's lives expresses itself like that: indirectly, in half thought-out opinions and feelings. And sometimes through a connection with something that is very real. But we don't have the knowledge or language to speak about it.