"it's 9 p.m." you told me. the clock had struck nine when you proposed to finish the entire project in less than an hour. we were both tired. it was a tuesday during monsoon season. there were videos of us laughing just about anything because we had just passed what frustration felt like. we had our sleeves rolled up and we tied bandanas around our heads. your mother picked you up half past ten, made my mother give you "the stare" which i told you beforehand as a trivial disclaimer. you thanked me for letting you use some appliances for your needs. you were smiling. you were really absent-minded. and i, i was happy.
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kalopsia
Poetry[ka-lop-se-a] Greek (n.) the delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are.
