"Are you going to tell me that Trump won that debate?" I asked Uncle John, who was smiling at me like a cheshire cat. We exchanged words: "dementia" for him, "pathological liar" for me, "laughter" for him, "narcissism" for me. We both stopped. He looked down at Lilith and said, "but I love you guys."
We could have been in the trenches at Gettysburg, calling across the field at each other each night after killing was done for the day.
No comments:
Post a Comment