Back when no one spoke of love because it was too hard to explain, daddy use to tell stories at the dinner table using salt and pepper shakers, and mommy would listen but I would not, because children did not listen to salt and pepper shaker stories. Maybe if I had listened just a little bit harder mommy and daddy would still love each other. But I never listened and daddy never stayed.
A few years later daddy still told stories around the dinner table using forks and knives and empty plates to people who never cared and never listened and mommy wasnβt around. But I still was and I was the only one to listen.
His stories werenβt of love, or life or anything anyone would remember tomorrow or the next day, but if I learned anything from those salt and pepper shaker stories and the fork and knive tales, it was never fall in love