If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years watching Earth, it’s that people aren’t what they they may seem. There are shop-boys and there are boys who happen to work in shops for the time being, and trust me, Tristan: you’re no shop-boy.
This is worse than I thought. Apparently your mother is amorously infatuated with you instead of your father. Whoa, wait a minute, Doc. Are you trying to tell me that my mother has got the hots for me?
Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and then, one
not-so-very special day, I went to my typewriter. I sat down, and I
wrote our story: a story about a time, a story about a place, a story
about the people but, above all things, a story about love, a love that
will live forever. The End.