My heart is old and rickety. Or seems so, sometimes. I look younger than I am, I'm told. People are often surprised when I tell them my age. It makes me wonder if I behave immaturely. I hope not. Francis liked to call me the voice of reason. Back when he called me. I think that the bulk of my wear and tear happens in unseeable places. I know that there's a fair amount of it. I haven't been at all careful with myself. That much peeks out in certain places. Today it shows along my scraped knuckles. Jackpot told me to wear gloves, but I really do like to feel things...

And then Dave calls, and it's time to be normal again.
"Quit moping around!" I say to myself.
"Aye, aye Cap'n!" I willingly respond.
When Dave asks how it's going, I say, "Great!" because deciding is the first step.

So, that interruption saves me from saying what I was going to, because now I'm reminded that I have more to do than I have the time to do it in. Because I've wasted too much time today, looking at things that weren't intended for me.

Tonight and tomorrow night will be perfectly beautiful and sparkling nights, and I will be so charming that it will be unsafe to look directly at me. All of me will be as breathtakingly happy as certain corners of me already are, and I will be relieved to see January again. I try to convince myself that I don't care for him, but he may be my favorite. Beginnings are the best parts.