Now, now." He smiles, "Don't you worry 'bout a thing. Damen's right where you left him. Though I must say I can't believe that you left him. I underestimated you. I had no idea. Though I can't help but wonder how Damen would feel if he knew. I bet he underestimated you too.

No: What the heck happened? Or: Why did you go from nearly kissing me to tossing me across your yard and into the patio furniture?

And now I'm right back where I started. Sober and miserable.

Well, for that matter, I was also a good friend of Leonardo da Vinci, Botticelli, Francis Bacon, Albert Einstein, and John, Paul, George, and Ringo." He pauses, seeing the blank look on my face and groaning when he says, "Christ, Ever, the Beatles!" He shakes his head and laughs. "God, you make me feel old.

What if it can't be worked out? What if I'm—what if I'm broken for good?

Some may say I'm perceptive" "And what would you say?" I ask, my voice edgy, tired of being toyed with. "I'd say I agree.

Well, it's nice to have a dream. But it's even nicer when there's a remote possibility of it coming true.