like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

no longer writing in the third person

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.

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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

1

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

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

Can I see

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

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