“I liked the sketch,” I said. “Why?” “Because it looks just like my chair.” “Is that the only reason?” “It holds something,” I said “What?” “Emotion.” “Tell me,” Dante said. “It’s sad. It’s sad and it’s lonely.” “Like you,” he said. I hated that he saw who I was. “I’m not sad all the time,” I said. “I know,” he said.
