I know you've been here. I don't know how, but I do. Did you actually leave? Or maybe you just haven't figured out how to leave politely? You probably think I'm lonely. Most people leave after the talk, but you're different, aren't you? It shows.

Does grass regrow where you've walked? How do I know? I don't, but if you come tomorrow, we'll play riddles. There won't be coffee this time either —just words no one has ever uttered for centuries. Come. Not that you have a choice. You left something behind that still breathes.