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

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

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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

"Put a blanket."

I am below everything.

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
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She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

Worse Lift

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

no longer writing in the third person