So there I was, just about ready to give up on you, when you offer me … that. A reason to write you, and a glimmer of what you’re really all about.
Was it the threat of being trunked that made you give in?
Or did you actually choose to wait until the most frustrating possible moment to give up the first of your secrets?
P.S. Unless it’s all a lie. We’ll have words if it’s all a lie. And I don’t mean the words on your pages.