Alone. It's one of those small words that means entirely too much. Like fear. Or trust.

I kept a straight face while my inner Neanderthal spluttered and then went on a mental rampage through a hypothetical produce section, knocking over shelves and spattering fruit everywhere in sheer frustration, screaming, 'JUST TELL ME WHOSE SKULL TO CRACK WITH MY CLUB, DAMMIT!

We've both got into the blue beetle. He got into the red door, I got into the white one.

I'm pretty sure lurking in a dark alley to mug me with your apology isn't the usual way to go about saying you're sorry. But I didn't read that Mars-Venus book, so who knows.

I ask people impertinent questions. Hopefully turning up pertinent answers.

Sticks and stones and small caliber bullets may break my bones... Words will never, et cetera.

Kids. You gotta love them. I adore children. A little salt, a squeeze of lemon--perfect.