Sometimes it's a form of love just to talk to somebody that you have nothing in common with and still be fascinated by their presence.
-David Byrne

A man set before him a blank sheet of paper and scrawled "I WILL" at the top.


He sat upright, resolute and unmovable. A rhythmic moment passed before he drew both ends of the paper and, with squinted eyes and precision only limited by human hand, folded the paper in perfect fourths. He gently slid the paper in the coat pocket nearest to his heart. He stood, nodded, then marched out into the snow. His greying mustache resembled something of a smile.