“We’re coming for you with pitchforks,” he wrote, “Just you wait.”
I told him he should come, but to leave the pitchfork behind.
“Welcome. Maybe bring a mechanical keyboard and a latte,” I responded. “Pull up a chair. You can share my cube. Look at these beige walls.”
They’re either beige or brown, nobody cares. “Just pull up your chair and set to hammering…
