I stepped on a slug today. It made me wonder how you were doing. Leching your way across town no doubt. Filling your pockets with our disappointment. Recycling nicknames, sex games, growing pains. It's just growing up. It's a part of life. Happens to the best of us. That's why I'm here, isn't it? To have betrayal explained with a Doctorate's degree. Teenage heartbreak, 20 milligrams of it. Your occupied passenger seat, with a gift from me underneath, gathering dust. While I'm here in a room with no windows.