i don't know what we are anymore.
him: you coming tonight?
me: where to?
him: ... i just told you.
me: i wasn't listening.
him: obviously.
me: yeah...
him: okay.
me: so where is it?
him: the beach.
me: the beach?
him: yup.
me: you're insane.
him: you're mature.
me: ha-ha, you're so funny.
him: i am.
me: why would i go to the beach with you? seriously!
him: swimming?
me: it's february cooper, not july! there's still some snow outside my house!
him: oh...
me: there is no way i'm going with you.
him: you'll come.
me: will i?
him: yes.
me: and why's that?
him: i'm in possession of a new copy of charles bukowski's collected works...
me: you drive a hard bargain.
him: aha! i knew it!
me: fine, i'll go...
him: you're so easily swayed nina.
me: ...
him: fine, fine, don't kill me! we're going!
me: but no swimming!
him: whatever you say!
me: what have i done?
water-stained ink soaked onto the back of
old physics quiz.
YOU ARE READING
little talks
Randomi needed to write down almost everything he had said, to reassure myself that he had been real, that we were something that lasted; at least for a little while. - nina [ © jude rigor two-thousand-&-thirteen ]
