Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

we need to be deconstructing our identities

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.

plato

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.

ahnaf abrar

feel you

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

"Put a blanket."

and the fake qualifier

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

what do you think my name is

yeah

its good

its good short few pages