“Just so you know,” I inform him, “one day, I’m going to get tired of sharing your affection with that coffee table and I’m going to make you choose.” “Just so you know,” he mimics me, “I would chop that table up and use it for firewood before I would ever choose anything over you.”

“Just so you know,” he mimics me, “I would chop that table up and use it for firewood before I would ever choose anything over you.”

“I tell everybody, I’m tired of being jerked around. Okay? So let’s just not pretend. I don’t have fuck for a heart. You people are not going to make me feel anything. You are not going to get to me.”

“What makes you think you’re so special? Just because you’re a teacher? What he was really saying was: You are so special. You are my teacher. Then teach me, help me, Hey, Teach, I’m lost—which way do I go? I’m tired of going up the down staircase.”

“You know I’m just joking, Phee. I told you before and I will say it as many times as I have to. I’m going to be the one that saves you … every time.”

“Can I make you some breakfast? Do you like your eggs sunny side up?”“I’m going to start feeling spoiled if you keep up this grovelling. I’ve already forgiven you, you know.”“Oh, I’m not grovelling. I’m just making breakfast. I figured since it’s your kitchen and all it would only be polite to offer you some.”