Declining the Compliment.

A woman once told me I had beautiful hands, but she was old and didn’t count. And she was wrong anyway.

She worked in a commercial cake factory and tried to garner my approbation by bringing me packets of the sort of overly sweet confections which they mass produce in commercial cake factories. She also tried to engage my interest with mind-numbingly trivial conversation. She went for counselling eventually.

I really don’t deserve any better than I get, do I? Sometimes I get really fed up with being me.