There is telepathy between hearts.
When I was little I thought being an adult meant not having a bed time but I’ve come to realize that it just means being in charge of my own bed time and it turns out that I am not equipped to handle that responsibility.
Today my history professor, a rumpled, pot-bellied guy in his mid thirties, walked into class looking all excited, which made the rest of us nervous, because he’s known for pop quizzes. He took a deep breath and said, “I have been waiting for this moment my entire teaching career. So please, pull out your textbooks and…” in a British accent, glowering at us all ferociously, “TURN TO PAGE THREE HUNDRED AND NINETY FOUR.”
We. All. DIED.
I AM COMPLETELY SERIOUS.