The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
kind of mythopoesis
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
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.
no longer writing in the third person
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
like first name
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
is everyoneback on tumblr now
not their contents