My heart’s got a limp—it’s had a limp for a while now—but it’s found a crutch in Tom. Not just a crutch, but a goddamn hospital wing. If he were a surgeon, I’d be in trusty hands. But he’s not and I still am anyway. I wish I had the words to wrap around Tom, a pedestal tall enough, a spotlight bright enough to show you actually how perfect a man he is—

