She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
I am below everything.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
i was tempted to lie about my name
its good
its good
in a post. I want to be remembered