The fucking raccoons. An understatement.
There were years i knew i’d be a drink for the rest of my life.
mexican food morning marathons on sundays.
She had on a red checkered summer dress. she bent over to reach into her cart. every single aisle stopped. the city stopped. the state stopped. the country, fuck that, consciousness stopped. Her baby blue silk panties melted the rest of the matter in the universe. I don’t know if even she survived.