he decided that i needed to go back to the scene of the crime to conquer my demons. he drives me there in his monte, playing my song of the moment ridiculously loud. parking karma gets us a spot right in front of the joint, and we run through the rain giggling like little girls.
he stays right by my side as i point out where they sat. where i sat. he punches my arm and pulls my hair. tells me to get over it and that he doesn't deserve all this thought. that i should be happy he found someone ELSE... so i could stop having to deal with his shit.
then he asks me if i want to go anywhere else. and when he sees my eyes light up with glee... he knows. he holds my little brown bag as we leave the mexican mcdonald's heaven that is chipotle.
now we are sitting in his room, learning about the fabulous life of P. Diddy Combs. it makes me feel dirty. i can admit that he is an excellent businessman... and even that he has excellent style... but damnit, his music SUCKS.
anyway. i love my brother. tootles.
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