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Stranger in My Driveway
Because my palms were so sweaty as a kid, I'd be too embarrassed. So I'd have to make up like a fist-bound handshake with him. Dude, sometimes my hands would get so sweaty that my paper would tear apart. It would rip because it was so wet. They used to fucking pour. Nat, do you remember my hands and how sweaty they were? Is that not—
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Okay.
Oh, sorry. No, that's not what I was thinking. I was thinking about how I would be scared to go to school if I was a kid, if I knew that my principal was going to high-five me or shake my hand.
Oh yeah.
Because my palms were so sweaty as a kid, I'd be too embarrassed. So I'd have to make up like a fist-bound handshake with him. Dude, sometimes my hands would get so sweaty that my paper would tear apart. It would rip because it was so wet. They used to fucking pour. Nat, do you remember my hands and how sweaty they were? Is that not—
uh, no, not really. It's not like a memory.
Dude, so sorry.
No, David, I have my own life, my own things, my own problems. I don't think about your sweaty fucking—