But seriously, thank you, Jack, for telling me that I could submit this to a high-level literary magazine or creative nonfiction outlet with some minor tweaks. I don't think I will do that.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won'tstopat any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.