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[chasemearound]

I'm moving.

After about a million generations of Smiths living in the run-down house I am occupying now (okay, not a millon--whatever, choose some odd number, go ahead), my father has decided that in lieu of my mother leaving us behind (and no, I don't want to talk about it--not like anyone will want to talk to me about sensitive subjects anyway),

Comments

[_susie_bones_]

I'm sorry about your mother, Smith.

And I know we weren't the best of friends at school, but, if you'd like, I'm open for getting tea sometime. Catch up. Sit and stare at each other. Pick at our nails. Whatever.

[chasemearound]

It's...fine. I mean. I'm over it. Maybe. I don't know.

And that sounds alright. We'll get in touch, I have to move in and all that annoying shit first.

[_susie_bones_]

Well after you get the "annoying shit" out of the way, owl me.

We can talk about how you're over it when we meet for tea. I'm quite a good listener. I promise.

[chasemearound]

I will. And it is annoying, moving. Packing. Blah.

I'll take your word for it.

[cards_n_badgers]

Yeah, Smith, Sorry about your mother. Really. That's rough.

St. Catchpole? Rings a bell...Isn't it in Devon?

Like Sus said, we may not have known each other well but if you want to get a beer and talk about...Quidditch and completely skirt around the feelings stuff just owl me.

[chasemearound]

It's fine.

I don't know, all I know is that it's virtually country and all the houses are a million miles apart. Or something. I don't even think my father knows where it is. He's just excited because we're moving away from...home.

Feelings, pah. Right. I'll get in touch. Thanks.

[cards_n_badgers]

Right. Good.

Don't the Weasley's live near St. Catchpole? I swear I've heard it in a conversation once.

Exactly. Goodo. For beer and Quidditch. No problem.