I wanted to prop him up against cushions and make pot after pot of tea or make him run down the street while I chased him with a tranquilizer dart, instead I sat in The Townie drinking and talking watching the information slide over him like sandpaper.
I kept quoting poetry and telling endless boring anecdotes about solving word puzzles waiting for him to flinch or stand and suddenly turn over tables and throw glasses like bullets but he sat like a statue while the information slid over him like sandpaper.
I kept quoting poetry and telling endless boring anecdotes about solving word puzzles waiting for him to flinch or stand and suddenly turn over tables and throw glasses like bullets but he sat like a statue while the information slid over him like sandpaper.
Comments
Dating is an American concept anyway.
To me the night sounds frustrating. Nothing like a little emotional chaos to spark things up.