I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
."I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
yes
I am below everything.
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.
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
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.
in a post. I want to be remembered