Many secrets are kept behind closed doors. But the saddest and most fearful of them are those that are hidden in public, out in the open, right in front of everyone who walks by them.
Everyone has secrets.
Perhaps, it may eventuate, that Stephen R. Covey was wrong?
‘Don’t worry,’ he would say, a little sternly, gathering up his books. ‘There isn’t anything wrong with you, it was my theory.’
Then he would walk away, and everyone would sigh, a little sad, but also relieved.
Well really, they would whisper. Shouldn’t theories be proven before they’re put into books that people read?
Jack has hair the colour of sunrise, and eyes the colour of summer days. His voice, on the other hand, has all the dark mystery of a midwinter night.
If a bit of moisturiser gets under my fingernails, I grab an orange stick, and using the pointy end, I scoop it out.
I wait there, patiently, with the orange stick, until every last trace of moisturiser is gone.
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