Lessons From the Kissing Booth

If I came with a warning label, it would say, "Not to be trusted with crossed ankles, tophats, or complicated costume changes. Do not shake or bench press. Bites." My glass would order you not to tap on it and, if you tried, an alarm would drop confetti and rattlesnakes from the ceiling. The label would say, "Only dangerous when provoked. Likes to be pet like a kitten, but only if your fingerprints have already been registered."

The label would be plaid. Pink and green and tan. Looks friendly, but isn't.

There's a valid argument that could be made which would say that I am addicted to the more dangerous parts of you. We needn't comment on that.

On the few evenings that I have been home resting and healing and not being social, I have been learning about bugs and things that creep and crawl. This is neither euphemism nor obfuscation: it is fact.