it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

"Put a blanket."

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

it is hopeful

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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

no longer writing in the third person

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

currently

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

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it