Since no one’s here, we can talk.” Toby ducks under the counter and pours himself a coffee. I instantly feel like a kid called to the principal’s office. Toby’s “we need to talks” were my least favorite thing about our relationship. He’d invite me to sit at the kitchen table, and then he’d let me know what he needed from me that he wasn’t getting and how I needed to improve. I’d cry. He’d say I was making myself into the victim. I’d try to stop crying. And it was always shit I could never possibly change. Like one time, he had an issue with the fact that I wasn’t open enough to the possibility
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