.......when i pulled her close and asked her what was wrong, she bashfully replied. "i tease my hair, not boys." i knew she was taking it easy on me. her body language told me so. she smelt like cloves and sunday morning. her posture was graceful, like a tightrope walker. her eyes. oh her eyes. she stared at me with such power. i knew it then, right there in the meat market. she was my timon. i was her pumbaa. she carefully placed her deli meats into her handcart as she walked away from the counter. she reached for my hand. i fumbled for hers. as we walked to the bus to take us home from our school trip, she paused and asked me the single most important question i think i've ever been asked.
"...what's it like, being tobeslerone? don't you get tired of this life?"
".....it's the shit life, baby. i wouldn't have it any other way."
- excerpt, Tobeslerone - shut the fuck up when i'm talking to you, the memoirs of Tobeslerone.
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