eleven

If you think that I don’t think about how else this could have gone…you don’t know me that well. And I think you know me; I’m not so hard to know. If you don’t think I wonder which shade and shape of couch I’d fall asleep on after the kids (let’s be real—the pup, perhaps? A turtle or goldfish?) went to bed (finally…and most likely after a battle— because they are children (or pets) of late-night folk), you think you know me, but you don’t. But I think you know me… If you think I don’t s...