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

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

Better Lift

no longer writing in the third person

in a post. I want to be remembered

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

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.

Better Lift

Rain, starting

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."