LefthandedScissors

If I could tell you everything, I would. But in this hour, how could I ever fit everything? I'd have to pick and choose.  Tell you the important things. I could tell you about when we met. I could tell you how I touched the door in a way that could be taken as holding it open. I was only making it look that way, so I could pass through without looking rude. I could tell you how self centered I am. I could tell you that you are here for me. I am indeed not here for you. I could tell you about how, on the day that Tuesday died, as I walked to the bus station, the puddles seemed to glow red from the sunrise, and the telephone