2013-02-12 - 8:52 a.m.
the stalking horse.
his knees were pressed together, hard, and he was taking up as little space as possible. you could see a little flexor tendon jumping in his ankle. she'd pulled at her v-neck and positioned her arm in a way that optimized a particular view. her head was nearly in his lap.
"he's playing with house money," my brother said.
here's the thing, though. she acted like she wanted to be much closer friends with me, until she connected with him. now i don't hear much from her anymore. this doesn't bother me. i've never seen my silent friend so happy. but if she fucks him over, this accumulation of reserved judgments will come down like a rockslide.
* * *
reading:amsterdam stories, nescio. these are suffocating.
listening to: california demise, olivia tremor control.
working on: spring cleaning.
in the garden: there are bluebirds. i have to build a bluebird box.