Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

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.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

Worse Lift

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

13, H, grate

        13       |
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                |
            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

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