You. Such a goody two shoes. It annoys me. You think you're so perfect, don't you? Maybe that's because you are. You always talk to me. You're always kind. And beautiful. That thought annoys me more. It's bullshit. No one that doesn't know me is that kind to me. You have to have some ulterior motive. I just can't figure out what. I rub my eyes with an irritated sigh, smudging my eyeliner. You've been coming into the record shop more and more. And you don't appear to be stopping anytime soon.