That best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness
and of love.
--William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)
For days now, he had been pressing me to open up. By God, one of the hardest things for me (other than putting on eyeliner and cooking Indomi properly)is to "open up and talk". Look, just look at what happened. I opened up alright, not just my mouth but my giant-sized tear-ducts as well.
There he sat I saw, he watched me have a crying fit with a stricken look across his face, and at the end he wrapped me in his arms and said each and every last one of everything was his fault and that so many things escaped him and that he was to blame.
And here I am sitting in the research room thinking how much I want to sleep with this man.
