So it was going to be one of those days.

The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew he wasn’t going to be there, I still hoped.

I wasn’t looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my non-expectations.

My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year.

You are so pushy!

It was all I could do to keep from falling backward. He’d probably just drag me along anyway if I did.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very least, not to throw up.

I’m trying to figure out what you are.

Stupid, shiny Volvo owner.

Are you trying to be funny?