I knew I wasn't going to receive an answer. Not a tangible one anyway. Somewhere over the course of the past year, you'd decided we were no longer going to even politely acknowledge each other. But there you were, every other week, showing up in my Google Analytics statistics. You were the only one I could track on that thing.
"I think he still reads my blog. I don't understand why. He won't even acknowledge my presence."
"How do you know?"
"I track it. But maybe it's not him. Maybe someone else who works at the NRA really likes it."
I probably shouldn't have asked you about it. You've stopped coming by. Perhaps that's for the best. Is it weird though. That a part of me was comforted by the fact that, maybe, you still cared. Even though you refused to let anyone know that.
But. Here we are. Of my own doing.
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