She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03