Nine

Nine. The number of years between us. Nine. And that’s just one reason it’ll never work. I have eight more. One for every year I’ve been alive longer than he has. They’re simple reasons. Obvious ones. And all I should need to know to understand that giving Lucas McNealy even half a thought, is a total and complete waste of time. Only he doesn’t seem to know that. If he did, I’m sure he wouldn’t keep showing up. In my thoughts. At my shop. And on my doorstep. Nine simple reasons. Nine undeniable years. Nine attempts to tell him ‘No’. Nine.