so at the end
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
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.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
like magnets
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
we need to be deconstructing our identities
was it worth it
much more tactility
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
bro i read nothing in my life
sorry i am texting like a slav
it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."