Pete
I don’t understand s**t! Nothing. I look myself at the mirror and move my hands, and I seem like a fleshy version of C-3PO. In contrast, when Lucas moves his hands, it seems like he’s directing an orchestra. So elegant, fast, fluid. Not me. Tomorrow is Christmas, and I want to send him a message asking him to see me. I don’t care if he wants to come back or not, start a relationship with me again or not. I just want to wish him a Merry Christmas the way it’s supposed to be. With gestures. Maybe in a decent way. After all, it is Christmas. Can’t I at least hope for a little miracle? Perhaps, for once, my hands could stop looking like iron pincers and become harmonious.
When I hear somebody knocking at the door, I take the book in the living room with me and throw it on the sofa. Then
