I was going to write something about how talking with you makes everything better, even when I’m a mess and over-worrisome… and this was the first thing on my dashboard. I think that about covers it, because that’s what you did yesterday—or, at the very least, something pretty close to it.
Also, to you whom I ran into running out and in the door, I’m sorry for appearing rude. I was unraveled and not composed, and I don’t like being seen like that. It truly was nothing personal, just I felt bad for you having to leave before you and he were expecting, and I felt bad for arriving as you were leaving and looking the way that I did. I meant no insult, and I kind of feel like offering you a drink to make up for it.