“There’s just so much I haven’t done, you know?” I say. “What?” he asks, laughing exasperatedly and running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to travel, maybe have kids, learn how to make my own candles. I still haven’t watched all nine seasons of The Office. I thought I had more time.” “Are you implying—” “That this dick is going to murder me? Yes,” I interrupt. “Oh my god,” he groans. “Do your hands get tired of holding it while you pee?” “I’m gonna leave,” he mumbles. “I’m going to leave,”
