Every phone ring. Please. Every e-mail. Maybe. Ninety per cent of my dreams. Every song title. Every waking thought. What's wrong here? Hurry home from every social event. Why?
I'm papering the walls with rainbows and I'm borrowing anti- depressants. I'm meditating, praying and running marathons. Generally cursed with good memory, I seem to have rewritten the entire romance.