“What I know,” he says, still holding my wrist, “Is that I’ve seen every side of you.”
When we first met I could’ve sworn the guy was blind, emotionally if not in any other way. I’d seen him around – on campus, at the café where he worked blending up slow-acting caffeinated poison, in the parking lot where we first exchanged words. They weren’t nice words. He’d tapped my bumper and like that, the damage was done. Honda on Honda, CR-V versus Insight. The goody-goody always gets it in the end.