“Go on,” said Rio.
“And I’ve looked at Drew,” Martin continued. “He made me wonder what the word ‘normal’ meant.”
“God, you’re crazy,” whispered Rio.
“I’ve looked at Roberts,” confessed Martin, “until his helpless, sick desire forced me into desperation, and I tasted the germ of his too bright mouth.”
“God!” repeated Rio, horrified.
“And I’ve looked at you,” went on Martin.
“Yeah?” breathed Rio, straining forward.
“And I became less blind.”
Rio’s heavy shoe scraped the pavement.
“And I’ve looked at myself,” said Martin, lifting his voice. And still more firmly, “I’ve looked at all of us and found us all so different—and yet so much the same.”