he sits there in his entirety. as if waiting for something amazing to pop out of the mouth of the person speaking. always waiting. but for what? he is a mystery. a complete and utter mystery. but when he writes its breathtaking. how something so good can come from his mind is understandable, but what else comes from it? its not love that lures me to him, or attraction of any sort. just plain curosity. i've known him from a year but only to a superficial friend kind of way. we converse and laugh and joke but it seems im treading just the shallow part of the pond. he'd probally make a good best friend. something i know that i probally can't. or i don't know.
i should call mark.
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