fw
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
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.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
much more tactility
i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying
is this you as well
ahnaf abrar
so at the end