Mark my words, when I slip into that bed, there will be no—and I mean NO—romantic thoughts of my best friend. Platonic. That’s what we’re going for. All the platonic-ness one can muster. Is that even a word? Doesn’t matter. That’s what’s happening. Because if anything, I’m a Cane, and Canes are born with the crafty ability to hold strong, to not buckle, and to rely on their mental fortitude to get them through any situation. There. Pep talk complete.
