I’m going to take that as, in fact, he did get hurt. Seizing life and making it my bitch just backfired in my face . . . and Romeo’s ass. When he finally stands after a few more heavy breaths, he hobbles around, still gripping his left cheek while I chase after him. “Did you pierce your ass? Do you need me to look? Are you bleeding? Do you need stitches? Do you need ice? Should I call 911? I don’t have a phone. Oh God, did I hurt the tree?” I rush over to the tree and notice it’s barely scathed, then I turn back to Romeo, who has murder in his eyes. “Uh . . . is there blood?” I twist my hands
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