hollyr
The trees, too, cocked an ear as you dropped names like a bird fumbling over her seeds.
Bay-seat-toe.
Antoine: They had sexy sex in my bed?
Sarah: I didn't want to tell you, but yeah.
Water mists from the rip in the garden hose. Lia would call it "watering the mice."
It was understood that he took the laundry and I bought the gin.
Something's ticking beneath the bridge.
Molls stood on the pier, flicking potato chip people to the seagulls.
The crepes on the floor, the decanter tilting... it's all over.
The ergonomics of falling from a plane cup one's ears.
The moon shone in the pond, like a bowl of hair. The grass nodded.
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