rock paper scissors :: m.g.c.

0.1

what are you, five?

maybe.

fine. paper.

and just as the loading bar reached one hundred percent and the words delivered appeared under her speech bubble, the old white window of her nine storey apartment slammed open and one singular pot plant fell from her balcony.

and then one of the loudest crashes mali had ever heard resounded around her living room. she rushed over to the edge and peered over to see a massive crash on the london road beneath her. at least seven cars had been mutilated and four more had been badly damaged.

mali's phone buzzed from in-between the couch cushions. she plucked it from the black hole otherwise known as her lounge.

careful mali. don't want to fall off the edge

did you just do that?!
who the hell are you?
answer me now you dipshit

sweet dreams, mali. have fun trying to get some sleep tonight. xo michael