She provokes in him a certain feeling. Theo is good with words; what good is a comedian who can't speak? He still can't find a way to describe what happens to him when she walks past, when her eyes slide over him in the hallway, when she talks in class and he is there to hear her voice. He can't drown it out when he smokes. Alcohol won't chase it away, and it remains somewhere between his heart and his stomach, swinging there, slow and tempting, getting a little heavier whenever she looks at him. He still can't tell her. He has no words she wants to hear.