“And I lie down on your carpet so long that you think I will stay forever but I get up and I see the indentation in the carpet and I get jealous and say, "I am no longer needed here.”

“As you can see," I gestured to each of my appendages, "I am just fine. No need to worry." I almost added "your pretty little head" but I wasn't in the mood to pick up my teeth from the shag carpet.”

“I am so sorry. I wish you knew even one tenth of one percent of how sorry I am. ...It was my fault. Can I kill myself here, or should I do it outside, so the mess on your carpet doesn't upset your mother?”

“The carpet was so thick I could have made carpet angels.”

“All I can think about is how fucked up it would be for your life to end here, now. I mean I know that your life if fucked up no matter what now, forever. And I'm not dumb enough to think that I can undo that, that anyone can. But I can't wrap my mind around the notion of you not getting old, having kids, going to Juilliard, getting to play that cello in front of a huge audience, so that they can get the chills the way I do every time I see you pick up your bow, every time I see you smile at me.”

“With the rising cost of food, either the portions get smaller, or the quality gets inferior. So, for example, pizza that used to taste like cardboard now tastes like carpet. Unvacuumed carpet, because I asked for lots of toppings.”