Lennon
Breakfast was terrible. Dion told Kimmy every embarrassing thing he could think about me, and she sat there and ate it all up. And just when I would think he was done, he’d remember another story and mortify me all over again.
I could have stopped him; we were close enough that I could just give him a look, and he knew to shut his mouth or change the subject, but I didn’t. Dion was the best storyteller I’d ever met, Kimmy was having too much fun at my expense, and I wanted her to know everything there was to know about me. And I also loved that my two favorite people were getting along so well.
So, when everything was over, Kimmy had her ceramic thingy delivered, and she rushed off to my bathroom to make herself presentable. Thirty minutes later, her poodle-like app
