Schorb Page 2 tells one something about love, its on-and-off character. But to be locked out of a place one would enjoy being locked into, that is unwhole- some. And to be locked into a place one would enjoy getting out of, that too is unwholesome. Jails - several jails. Misdemeanors, each and every time. No worse than jaywalking. But to be locked into a place with someone one loves, that can be heaven, even if the other party should show signs of fear - screaming and suchlike behavior. I don't know why she should scream because we were locked in together, especially after saying that she was never afraid of being alone, or that she never felt lonely whether she was with others or truly alone - say, with me. Eventually I was locked out of the same place by the same person, a shocking aftermath to a skillful escape. And I had set her free as well, but she ducked back into the place and I found myself locked out once again. Well, I put a lock on the outside of the place, and so she was locked in and I was locked out. What we each needed was a locksmith. But she had the key to my heart, as they say, so it was I who needed the locksmith. I locked myself up in a cage right outside the door, and finally she stepped out and demanded the key to the cage, which I gladly threw to her, and which she seized from the air like a gift, as if it were a golden key, and ran away with it. A cage is another such place where one can be locked in or locked out. The chains on her ankles dragged my cage on wheels through the streets of the locked-in city. E.M. Schorb lives in North Carolina.