(no subject)
Does anyone remember the day he stopped in the middle of walking out, turned around to face us, and asked us all to look him in the eye and tell him we were happy here, here where we are? Were.
I think we all forgot; we act like it, anyway. Maybe pain is protuding soft rock and the masquerade sandpapers it away.
It's be another few years before someone asks us that again. But I suspect we'll go float on like before.