Rain, starting

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.

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

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

yeah

Picture

isaac newton

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.

Thank you, Jack

god being the centre magnet

in a post. I want to be remembered

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.