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Better to fight an imaginary demon than face real ones.
“No, Kez, don’t pour sugar on a pile of shit and call it breakfast. You’re leaving Gwen and the kids unprotected when people clearly want them dead.”
I try to lighten it up. “Woman, I spend my days hammering nails and building strong walls. I’m plenty manly enough.” She laughs, which was what I intended.
not to the two of us just . . . going separate ways. I want to be in your life, and I want you in mine. I want us to be together for as long as God allows.”
Awww. I love that
“You don’t fight the sea. You leave until the flood’s over.”
“Don’t say It’s complicated. It’s not. You either love her or you don’t. And if you don’t, you shouldn’t make her think you do.”
It’s a wild shot, off target, but he’s made that choice, and eliminated mine too. I shoot him in the head, and I don’t even blink.
Damn!
He does on one sentence, and then signs it. Before he passes it back, I take a quick picture of it. That gets an even less happy response from the detective.
Noted
An accusation without backup, without merit, spreading fast . . . and one thing I know about people from deep personal experience: they’re happy to jump on the hate train if it makes them feel like fucking heroes.
