4 am, thunderstorms again. abruptly a knock came from my door, who the hell? i swung it open, only to reveal two things. a container full of ramen and a note. or a drawing. i examined the rough sketch, it was doodles on a vibrant piece of purple paper. the words were familiar, i knew what it was.
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"it's the kind of tired sleep wont fix." felix. in the container was lukewarm from the journey i suppose, but the thought counted. this boy..who was he? what did he want from me? what did i want from him..?
