He fired cannons until the dogs barked, and then he would shoot one more just in case a chihuahua missed the first 5 shots and still wanted to join in on the chorus. He owned fate and destiny, they did not own him. So much that he could pull me through time and have everything his way. He spoke a language no one in town knew and it made him lonely that no one even tried to understand, but by god I am trying to understand...but it takes time, he is not just from around the corner. I have never felt the tug of mischief and spontaneity so strongly as I did when he pulled my arm. I was in love with another boy, but if I had had my heart on me I would have given it to him that night, and then asked for it back in the morning. I know he would not have known what to do with it for much longer than that, he might misplace it and i don't want that. He doesn't need to feel guilty for anything. I want to tell him thanks for stirring my soup before I boiled over, but I couldn't tell him that without wishing that he would stick around to try a spoonful.