Someone reminded me last week that people who are madly in love have spots in their central nervous systems that light up during brain scans.
I call it the spark. They call it the brain stem.
The fact is, it doesn’t matter how many times you kiss me on the couch, or rub my shoulders, or stare at me with a dumb smile on your face. I can feel everything upstairs shut down. There’s no spark, kid. There’s no light in the brain scan. It’s all burned out, and it’s time for you to go.
But I don’t know how to tell you. I don’t think you’ll get it.
So instead I’ll blame it on the fact that I’m allergic to your cat. Tell me what a brain scan would do with that.