The Gift Wrapped in Brown Paper
It was something closer to vertigo, watching a man promise a room full of witnesses to be truthful and faithful with the exact warm sincerity he had once promised me, and watching the room believe him the way I once had.
He was so good at it.
That was the thing that turned my stomach.
The sincerity was flawless.
If I had not lived on the other side of it, I would have believed him too.
I sat there and understood that everyone in that beautiful room was watching a performance I had already seen, and that they had no way of knowing it was a performance, because the whole genius of Kingston was that the performance was seamless.