in a post. I want to be remembered

no i haven't really read anything

It Will Get Lighter

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

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

"Put a blanket."

13, H, grate

I am below everything.

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

brb i will read and reply sincerely

Thank you, Jack

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something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

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.

Rain, starting