Tomorrow night I am going on a date with W.F.
He sent me an e-mail that contained an ellipsis with the incorrect number of periods, and he claims to have gained 20 pounds over the summer. Maybe I’ll just cancel and spare myself the inevitable heartbreak.
The day I spare myself the inevitable heartbreak is the day I . . . the day I . . . well, damn it, I can’t come up with anything.
I guess I’m going.