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.

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.

but really the thing should be autonomous

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

"Put a blanket."

Thank you, Jack

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

I am below everything.

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a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

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