I worry about him

“Back off, you don’t have to try and sit on my lap,” I say to him almost every day followed by the most annoying noise: the sound of his chair scooting closer. The same thing happens almost every day. I worry about him.

A lonely boy he must be, feeling the need to get close to another guy. I worry about him

Laps, he must be obsessed with my lap. It’s constant and even after he moves away he comes right back. I worry about him.

Boys, he must be obsessed with boys. He never does this to girls. I worry about him.

Only me, he must be obsessed with me. I don’t know why he does this to me. I worry about him.

Ah poor moises, is he confused about himself? Or is he just freakishly attracted to me like a magnet. Oh how I worry about him.