twenty-four july
ten : twenty-five p.m.

i'd sent him that poem. because it fit. because it was perfect.

he sent me a book. tiny, square, handmade.

"a shortlived story for the arch-romantic. this book is for and dedicated to you. thank you. for my third romance. and. hopefully. that friendship i've needed."

pictures of soldiers ("a brief introduction, a long intermission"), pills ("yours were stronger than mine"), licensed withdrawal, myself and himself.

and all i want is for him to hate me.