I am below everything.
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.
it is hopeful
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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.
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
Thank you, Jack
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08