I mourned New York, the relationship, my friend.
The joys of victory
A turtle's plans go awry
It is the sort of app where you talk about having a headache, the fact that you’re horny, a memory you have of your father that still fucks you up, and of course, pictures of your dog, mostly to a cobbled-together group of people you’ve never even met who have, for some unknown reason, all agreed not to judge.
He says goodbye and she says it back. But neither of them walk away.
If I wash my hand it’s gone so I have to keep drawing.
Love as preservative
We made a list of all the things we didn’t know: when was the Bronze Age, and what’s steel made of, anyway?
My feelings floated and then I started to walk to a park.