Are you somehow impervious to injury? Is that why there are no band-aids in your house, which caused you to fashion a toilet paper tourniquet when you cut yourself shaving last night?
Why do you think vengeful thoughts when people you smile at don’t smile back?
You totally pretended he wasn’t there, didn’t you?
Why do you say “nice to see you again” when you know full well that this person has no clue who you are?
Why does doing the above tickle you so much?
Why does the phrase “I don’t think Idris is that handsome” enrage you so?
Because, honestly, that’s one less person you have to imagine fighting at sundown for his heart, right?
What was THAT?
You intend on remaining cryptic about THAT, don’t you?