After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?
no longer writing in the third person
it is hopeful
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
isaac
currently
"Put a blanket."
i did until you asked which kind of gave it away
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
or never left