I am the “Who?” in every room.
The blank look on the asker’s face, the quizzical pitch of voice, the lack of recognition at the answer? That’s the world’s reaction to me.
While this realization should sting, it doesn’t too much.
After all, who else but a “Who?” is trusted by Dr. Seuss to turn a Grinch into a hero?
(The fact that this silly, fanciful ‘logic’ sustains me is either quite laughable or sadly admirable. Which? Don’t ask me. I’m only the “Who?” in this tale.)
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