Am I the lone pea that is pushed by the fork to side of the plate? Little Johnny doesn’t want to eat his peas. He’ll push them away, as far away from his mouth as he can. It may find its way to the very edge of the plate, to the rim, and it may fall. Am I that pea?

Or if I am not the pea, am I the princess who sleeps on the dozens of mattresses atop the pea? If I am, I do not lay awake because of the pea, but because I am thinking of you.

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