fourteen january
seven : thirty-eight p.m.

we stood in the freezing wind and plucked roses from flower arrangements. a procession of flashing lights, moving slowly.

"i never know how to fix things."

"i don't think things get fixed. they just change. and i don't think things have to change for the better. i don't know what i'm going to do."

"are you scared" - there wasn't any inflection.

"yes."