He was thinking not to live any more from today's night.
I am staring at him telling that he might...
He looks at me with a surprise:
Yes, that was the point.
My father is a psychiatrist,
I know everything from A to B, convincing in five minutes how great life is.
He gives me his business card, with a bear and a book on it.
And I was calling everyday, we talked about poetry, he was fixing my love poems, not like a friend, like some one I knew, formal.
The poetry didn't work out.
On Friday, fifth day he wasn't feeling better.
I called again until phone said to me: no one home would you stop calling.
Saturday morning I was depressed myself.
I was living with my mom,
She heard the story:
No problem, we will fix his problems, give me the card.
Calls him, starts a fight, a doctor too, believes only xrays.
At the end she almost trows the phone on the floor:
Be home for a while, since nothing else helps I will do it myself.
Few days after he shows up at my work:
Do you like Canada?
