See Also: The Autopsy of Assumptions
She told me she was busy,
and the wait made me queasy.
But she wouldn’t come and talk,
I knew I couldn’t just balk.
She said I’ll fill you in,
Said she’s never been busy akin.
But I needed to speak,
Hence the approach I had to tweak.
I needed words certain,
Honest, barring any curtain.
Her absence asked me questions,
Tearing apart my close substance.
There were gaps I needed to fill,
But then she took seemingly ill.
I filled the gaps with deductions,
Which aptly aided my functions.
Things became normal,
Nothing remained formal.
I let loose a deduction,
Was astounded by her reaction.
She balked, she sulked,
Unimpressed with the stories I sculpt,
Finally explaining under compulsion,
Said I made a lot many assumptions.