The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
in a post. I want to be remembered
Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?
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.
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
was it worth it
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
...
no longer writing in the third person
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
you cannot feed someone truth
i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.