Kerplunk drags their feet in the dust, slightly tipsy. A half-empty beer bottle is clutched in their hands, and they sigh dramatically, running hands through their soft black hair.
Is love supposed to be this painful? So hard? They throw the bottle angrily, and it shatters against a rusted garbage bin. The ruthless sun beats down on them as their legs collapse from underneath them. They find themselves covered in dust. All alone.
Their heart throbs painfully, and they clutch the end of their ragged t-shirt in desperation.
I'm lovesick.
