“Late night beings, we are.” She whispered as the hollowed out holes of cardboard whistled. I was too tired to care though. Our heavy eyes rested in a box for two.
I cut myself at work. My knees have been aching. I’m hungry and on a diet. My car has stopped working. What the suck.
I was adequately rejected by another manic pixie dream girl. When did distance become an issue? Her dubious reasoning was caustic and feminist. My pal, Angel, prudently believes I should quickly move on. It’s been a long perilous week.
It was a week and some odd days before I popped a molly. I was talking to Ashley. She’s a sarcastic red head with four eyes and a feminists voice. We talked about Austin among other things. The conversation felt plastic; shallow for clarities sake, but nonetheless her impression was deep. After we hung up, I fell asleep. My night was made.