To the crazy lady on the Red Line
Kevin addresses his traveling companion:
Listen, I know we may not have gotten off on the right foot with your sitting down next to me, dropping a bag into my lap, then proceeding to rummage through it until you found a pair of black composition books that you pulled out and then began to read from loudly in a patois of French, English, and what sounded like Portugese, but I was willing to forgive this and move on with my day. It was at the point that you began pointing at my Red Bull and demanding some of the only thing that was holding my bourbon-embattled brain together that our relationship went from merely quirky to out-and-out acrimonious. ...
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