There's something about you that says you should be creepy. Your subtly twisted and malformed face; your shifty eyes that never quite meet my gaze; the fact that you always seem to be hovering around the entrance to the apartment building when I get there in the afternoon. And yet...you're not. You open the door so I didn't have to fumble with my bags. You always nod a silent hello. Your pipe smoke is aromatic and comforting.
You seem nice.
I'll go with my intuition on this one. Smoke on, dude, smoke on.
The Half-time Occupant from B-1
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Dear Formerly-Jackass-Students-from-First-Hour,
I wasn't sure whether it was going to happen, and boy did it take it's sweet time. But that shift from OMG you are so frickin' annoying (me) and OMG she's such a bitch (you) to us suddenly joking around and you visiting my room during other hours...Yeah. You two are suddenly part of that group that stretches back over nearly a decade of teaching. You have become My Boys.
Congratulations. Now get out of my room and get back to class!
Ms. TeacherMommy-and-No-I-Will-Not-Be-Your-Boi!!!!
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Darling Friend-of-the-Heart and
When did we switch roles? How is it that I'm the one kicking your ass about relationship woes instead of you kicking mine?
I almost feel Grown Up. And I love you. Don't make me come over there and do it for real.
Your Forever Friend
2 bits of love:
My step father used to smoke a pipe. Kinda smelled like chocolate.
Interesting thooughts
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