She hung onto her coffee cup with both hands, and she said, "I knew I was in love the night I cried for him. I cried because I was scared. Because I was raw and exposed and his eyes burned inside my mind, scraping away at my soul like sandpaper - and oh, oh, it hurt so good. Yeah. That night, I knew I was in love."
I hung on to my coffee cup with both hands, and I thought of you.
"I'm not in love," I said.
But as soon as she left, I cried.