His breath, like a whisper in my ear, speaks multitudes. His story spills as from a fresh wound and puddles on the floor before us. I dip my toes in to test the waters. A beautifully uncomfortable sensation overtakes me, and, for a moment, my breath catches in my throat. ..
To a fault, I am honest. In my day to day interactions, making acquaintances, being normal, this does me a disservice. Not to say that I am rude, but I do have a hard time letting my lips be friends.
Well, my friends, there is one situation where this aspect of my character actually behooves me:
when pulled over
by the police —
Today I woke up and wanted to be a lawyer. Okay, so, no, I don’t really want to be a lawyer. It’s something I’ve considered all my life, something I’ve been told I’d be good at for as long as I can remember – it probably has something to do with my penchant to argue things into the ground. My earliest recollection is from lower-school defending a classmate’s liberty to wear a school-monikered sweatshirt during gym class when the PE teacher was trying to force her to take it back. The teacher got snarky with me, and I will always remember her words:
Take it up with me
when you’re in Georgetown law —
As you lay there in bed and address me gruffly one last time before turning your back towards me, I wondered, again, what it was that I had done? What had I done wrong? Did I disrespect you? Did I ignore you? Did I offend you? Did I break your heart?
I think to tap you on the shoulder and question you about it. I think to tap you on the shoulder and