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.

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

in a post. I want to be remembered

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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