She was elusive. She was today. She was tomorrow. She was the faintest scent of a cactus flower, the flitting shadow of an elf owl. We did not know what to make of her. In our minds we tried to pin her to cork board like a butterfly, but the pin merely went through and away she flew.
That awkward moment when you’re really upset and decide to play the saddest song you know.
And you go from this:
To this:
And wonder what the fuck is wrong with you.
