Smirks
He liked them. A bit too much said everyone else. In his mind it was a more mutual befriending. He helped the bagel out (by eating it obviously), and it would help him out (it filled his almost void-like stomach).
Everywhere. All he wanted to do was write nice and neatly in his diary and log the recent adventure he went on. But apparently that's an impossible task to forgo when you're left handed.
It was all fake. Nothing of his was real. Just created to the finest of qualities, in the hopes he wouldn't catch on. His friends, his family, his ideas, his memory. They were all just lies. What kept him up at night, was wondering if he was one too.