"She and that girl and
occasionally another girl went out several times a week that way, and
the rest of the time Connie spent around the house—it was summer
vacation—getting in her mother's way and thinking, dreaming, about the
boys she met. But all the boys fell back and dissolved into a single
face that was not even a face, but an idea, a feeling, mixed up with the
urgent insistent pounding of the music and the humid night air of
July."
- Excerpt from "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?", by Joyce Carol Oates
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