twenty-one february
twelve : oh-three a.m.

you are alone on a friday night, and your excuse is that you have to wake up early. class on saturday, must get sleep.

you read old letters from him and him - the one who broke your heart, and the one whose heart you broke. you do some laundry. drink some wine. you take a shower and cry, leaning against the tiled wall, back to the water.

distractions only work for so long. then what?