The Farthest Feeling

The guillotine just laughed again.

I found your note. In a stack of old school papers. I find it so intriguing to think that we thought we knew so much. I've leased my heart out for too many people for too long a time. Like these shoes, it's scuffed, dirty, and broken in. But regret is the farthest feeling from me.

I can't remember a day when I didn't smile. I suppose that's something to grip. But how long until the oil between my fingers takes its toll?