I'm having lunch with Judith. She is the new social assistant working
in the precinct. For some reason she seems to have taken me as some
sort of personal project.
I do that with people, too. But I'm not attempting to improve their lives.
I'm not attempting to improve anybody's life.
"Earth to Dexter?"
"Sorry, I was enjoying my food. This is a nice sandwich isn't it?"
She looks at me as if she could see inside me.
"You have to pretend a lot of the time, don't you?"
Where did that come from? I always knew somebody would ask me that
question, but I had assumed it'd be a cop, not somebody like Judith.
"'Pretend'? What do you mean?"
She puts her hand over mine. It feels like a tiny piece of warmed meat.
Everybody's hands do.
"Emotions. You are always feeling too much, aren't you?"
I'm so surprised that I remain speechless for a few
seconds. Feeling too much is not a term I'd use to describe
"It's alright," she says, pulling back her hand and smiling to her
sandwich. "These things take time."
I have no idea of what she is talking about, but I nod
seriously and keep eating.