…then they will never share their eye make-up. they will always notice that your fingernails are dirty. they will pretend that they hate egg salad. they will keep their pills close to their breasts. they will ask you what you do. they will clock people at bars and whimsically vomit into your handbag and stray motorcycle helmets. they will disdain memoir, find it beneath them. they will read somewhere that it was uncreative to recollect and yet sinful to reconstitute. they won’t forgive you for leaving the light on in the kitchen. they will have skinny legs. they will say “no worries” when you haven’t apologized. they will make collages, mostly on pillow cases, out of moth-eaten scarves. they will say “thanks for your patience.” they will tell people you always left wet towels on the floor. they will be proud of their filing systems. they will like salvaging materials, but will mind you repurposing a dead grandfather. they will say “wha happen?” when you ask them to move their shopping carts? they will claim that bugs like to bite them, and only them. they will brag that they give the best blowjobs. they will constantly say TMI. they will text ‘hope all is well’ when your father is in the i.c.u. they will practice constant uptalk, finishing declarations at the highest pitch, just begging for agreement. they will tell you to direct puppet theatre.