Friggin' great. It's not enough that she'd crushed my hopes of finally finding a woman I'd want to be with indefinitely; now she has to twist the knife 'round a little more. I'm in one of those moods where it'd be so easy to just ignore that she's even left her trace here and deal with it later. But then I figure, what the hell? My mood is shot anyway, better not to risk ruining a perfectly good day tomorrow by dealing with it when I'm in better spirits. So I hit the button, dial voicemail, go through the hoops that somehow with all this technology have yet to be simplified, and finally hear her voice speak out quietly from the technological abyss: "Come to me for Christmas? Come to me for Christmas." I'm already pissy so I don't really get it at first. And then I catch something in the voice. A timidity; a shyness; a coyness. It's not a question, it's an invitation. "Come to me for Christmas…?" It's really, "[Will you] come to me for Christmas….?" And then, remembering her insatiable appetite, I get the rest of it.
What do You think about Come For Me For Christmas?
