Are you following me?" she asks, but doesn't meet my gaze. "Yeah," I say. "Why?" I give her the only honest and true answer I have. "You're where I want to be.

Sometimes we have to prove to others we're strong even where we're not.

I want to tell her how much she's become the center of my being. But I can't. The words won't come.

If no words come, you can always give him the finger.

Next time I want to do something nice, slap me.

When I look out [the window] at the big houses on either side of the road, it's obvious we've entered the rich side of town. Poor people don't post signs like NO TRESPASSING, PRIVATE DRIVE, PRIVATE PROPERTY, MONITORED BY CAMERA SURVEILLANCE. I should know because I've been poor my entire life, and the only person I know who ever posted a sign like these is my friend...and he actually stole the sign off a rich guy's yard.

Some things need to be left unsaid.