That was the thing. You just never knew. Forever was so many different things. It was always changing, it was what everything was really all about.

With love like that, you can't get pick about how it finds you or the details. All that matters is that it's there. Better late than never.

It is kind of hard to hold a lot in. But for me… it’s sometimes even harder to let it out.

So maybe it wasn't the fairy tale. But those stories weren't real anyway. Mine were.

There was no short answer to this; like so much else, it was a long story. But what really makes any story real is knowing someone will hear it. And understand.

But the bottom line is that, as humans, we are by nature selfish creatures. The only way we care about anything, really, is by making it about us.

We sat there, not talking, for a few minutes. He ate the Moon Pie; only skinny people can scarf down junk food like that. Finally, I said, "Norman?" "Yeah?" "Are you ever going to show me the painting?" "Man," he said. "You are, like, so impatient." "I am not," I said. "I've been waiting forever." "Okay, okay." He stood up and went over to the corner, picking up the painting and bringing it over to rest against the bright pink belly of one of the mannequins. Then, he handed me a bandana. "Tie that on.