February 2, 2020: Tommy if you're reading this, I think of you every time I smell a magnolia. I hold grudges with skill and in your case I haven't let go of the time you pitched a magnolia pod at me as I walked to our bus stop (NOT FIRST BASE OR ANY OTHER) and nailed me in the head. You were a good pitcher in a really fucking boring sport. I'm sorry, your sport can only be enjoyed inasmuch as it's nice to sit outdoors when the weather is good and the breeze smells of magnolias, or in our case, like brine. The bus stop smelled like privet. I have some nice memories of you but now that you mention it am also still a little mad that you heckled me over the fence from your garage as I practiced my jump shot.
